Tokyo Blues
by Comtess
Summary: The cop and the killer.
1. Chapter 1

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 1

The stench of burnt wood and ashes mingled with a salty breeze from the ocean. The western wing of the large warehouse complex that had housed one of Tokyo's largest shipping companies lay in ruins; black, acrid smoke emerged from burst windows and fire fighters, faces hidden behind masks, continued to assault the building with water hoses.

I clipped my badge to the lapel of my jacket. It identified me as a detective of the Minato Police Department and allowed me access to the estate. Avoiding the actual site of the fire, including the office buildings, I approached one of the warehouses that still seemed intact.

Iwase, my partner who had been on night shift, approached me. He had been standing near one of the large shipping containers that were used for storage and had obviously been prepared for shipping the day before. Iwase pocketed his small notebook and pen when he spotted me and turned his back to the officer he had been talking to.

"Good morning, Kitahara" he greeted me while attempting to smooth out his ruffled hair with one hand. He looked tired and his suit was wrinkled. "Look at this mess" I was not sure whether he meant his own appearance or the ruined building.

"Do you have any idea what caused the fire?" I asked.

"Not yet. All I can tell so far is that it was no accident" Iwase replied with a serious expression. He motioned me to follow him into the warehouse.

"How do you know?"

"Because of the corpses. We haven't been in the office building, of course, but we found bodies in here" he explained.

Despite the fire next door the interior of the warehouse was quite cool. I blinked a couple of times until my eyes got used to the semi-dark. More containers lined the walls of the large hall, and a couple of trucks were parked in here. Everything seemed to be in order, until Iwase pointed towards one of the vehicles and I took a closer look.

A pair of legs protruded from behind a wheel, and a crusted puddle of blood stained the otherwise clean concrete floor. "When will forensics arrive?" I asked as I stepped around the truck to get a closer look. Instead of giving an answer Iwase watched me closely as my expression changed.

The man on the floor had been slain. I never thought I would use a word like that at work. Tokyo was a safe place, over all. The crime rate was low, and although I had had my share of homicide cases I had never seen a corpse like this. The torso had been opened by a weapon I could not place. Four long gashes ran along the length of the chest and stomach, torn organs welling up from the wounds; the stench of bodily waste hit me like a wall. I was glad now that the smell of smoke from outside was prominent in here as well.

"Good grief" I whispered, taking a step back.

"There are more" Iwase said. "We found three bodies in here and three more in the adjacent halls. And we've only been here for an hour. Forensics are on their way"

I was still struggling against the nausea that hit me at the cruel sight. I turned to regain my composure and spotted a group of four men and a woman that approached me and my partner. They were dressed in black, their expressions even and unmoving at the sight of the mutilated corpse.

"Good morning, gentlemen" The woman addressed us and produced a badge I could not identify. Her hair, flaming red, was tied back, revealing high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. Had the circumstances been different I would have found her quite attractive.

As it was, I wondered who she was and what she was doing here. "My men will take over now, detective" she said, eyes locked with Iwase's. He opened his mouth as if to reply then shut it and nodded.

"We belong to the Minato Police Department" I said. "This is our…" The woman's gaze silenced me immediately, and I felt Iwase's hand close around my arm.

"I'll explain later" he told me and led me out of the warehouse. Looking over my shoulder I caught another glimpse of the odd group. They were gathering around the corpse, apparently indifferent to the horrible picture.

"Who are they? What's going on?" I asked, following Iwase outside. I was glad to be out in the open again, but I felt obligated to show at least a hint of reluctance to leave.

"You've been with us for what, two months?" my partner asked instead of answering my questions. "You will find out soon that it does no good to cross those guys"

"Who are they?" I repeated. I had been transferred to Tokyo a short while ago after working as a detective in Sapporo for three years. This did not include the mandatory service in the koban that every officer who had completed his training had to fulfill. It became clear to me for the first time how different things were the big city.

"They are the boss. The ones who have the last word" Iwase explained, looking grim. He retrieved a bundle of keys from his pocket and approached his car, a brand new Peugeot. I had no idea how he financed the vehicle on his police officer's salary, but that was none of my concern.

I watched him enter the car, hands in my pockets, waiting for further explanation. Iwase remained silent for a while, fumbling with his sunshades which lay on the passenger seat.

"Are they in charge of cases like… this?" I asked, unable to find the right words for this massacre. Maybe this was the work of an organized group, and a special department had been installed to pursue the case.

Iwase turned the key in the ignition. The engine came to life with a low hum. "They are in charge whenever they want to be in charge" he stated dryly. "I'll meet you at the office. There won't be much paper work. They take care of everything".

"Who is 'they'?" I insisted. Iwase shut the door and slowly drove off.

I looked around, biting my lip. The area had filled with people in dark suits and white overalls. They all seemed to belong to the mysterious department I had heard nothing about so far. Suddenly feeling out of place I approached my own car, an old Honda Civic, and decided to raise the topic again once Iwase's mood had lifted.

As I left the grounds I drove past a couple of large black cars with tainted windows. German brands. 'Yakuza drive those' I thought. In the distance Rainbow Bridge glinted in the sunlight, connecting Odaiba with Shibaura.

My mind was still occupied with this morning's events until something caught my attention. Parked in-between a Mercedes and a fire department's car stood a sleek convertible. I was unable to identify the brand. It looked like a mix between a Landrover and a Volkswagen, and leaning against the hood stood a tall guy. He met my gaze.

His arms were folded over his chest. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. At first sight he looked Western to me. Chestnut hair was tied back in a loose pony tail. Green eyes peeked over the rim of a pair of slim sunshades. Then I noticed Asian features, almond eyes, and high cheekbones.

The man, he was in his mid-twenties, I guessed, could have passed as a curious bystander had it not been for his knowing expression.

I saw his reflection in the rear view mirror as I passed. He had turned his head to watch me, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 2

Iwase was already sitting behind his desk when I entered our office which was located near Shiba Park. He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, cigarette wedged between his lips. Despite the relaxed position he looked strained and older than his forty-five years. Of course the job took its toll, but I partly blamed the huge amount of cigarettes he consumed each day. Whatever it was, it had turned his skin dull with an unhealthy grey hue.

I took a seat behind my own desk and shuffled a couple of papers around. "What are we supposed to put in our reports?" I asked and switched my computer on.

Iwase remained silent until I thought he had not heard my question. Eventually he shifted on his seat and flicked ash from his cigarette into the trey on the desk.

"Nothing" he said. "We pretend nothing happened. The boss knows"

I felt true irritation well up in me for the first time today. So far shock and confusion had suppressed any other sentiments, but back at the office the events of the morning seemed distant. My head began to clear up.

"Six people have been murdered. Probably more than that. We cannot pretend nothing happened" I stated.

"Yes, we can" Iwase replied and sighed as he met my gaze. "Kitahara, you have to understand one thing. Tokyo is a paradise for criminals and perverts. We get to solve the tame cases, and the public believes that they live in the safest metropolis on Earth, but there are things going on here that exceed our wildest imagination…" He interrupted himself, realizing that he sounded like a narrator in a cheap science fiction novel.

"There is the law, and there is the law. You understand?" Meeting my confused expression he let out another sigh. "Just accept that we are merely pawns on the chess board which is Tokyo. A huge city like this… There are opportunities for people without conscience. We might be the good guys, but we do not dictate the fate of this city. Powerful people are in charge"

I swallowed hard as the words sunk in. "Are you saying we just handed this case over to a criminal organization?"

Iwase stubbed out his cigarette. "I don't know if they're criminals. Maybe they are. Maybe last night's victims were the criminals. Maybe they all are. It's no use trying to figure it out, believe me. It's not in our power to interfere. We concentrate on the things we can change. Try to think in smaller scales. We can do good, in a way. We just can't change the world"

There he was again, talking like the protagonist out of a George Lucas movie. I remained silent for a while, watched him light another cigarette. It was hard to stay mad at Iwase for long. He was eighteen years my senior but had never patronized me before. He usually was not one to pass on smart-ass comments about his experience at the job which made working with him pleasant despite his habit of chain-smoking. To hear him talking like this, cynicism and resignation thick in his voice, led me to believe that he had painfully given up on once highly valued ideals. I began to wonder how he had been like when he first started out as a young officer, full of energy and plans. Maybe he once had clashed with the guys we met this morning. Maybe he had had to face the consequences.

"The boss knows about this?" I finally asked.

"Everybody knows about this" Iwase replied. "When the guys in the black suits show up we turn our backs and let them handle things. It worked so far. Maybe they are the good guys. Who knows?"

He rose, discarding the freshly lit smoke in the ashtray.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to take a piss" he replied to my question. "I'll get you a cup of coffee then I'll go home to my wife and children. That's how it goes, mate"

With that he left our office chamber. I got up from my chair to stub out his cigarette then slumped back, massaging my temples.


	3. Chapter 3

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 3

The evening papers reported a fire that had broken out in an office building in Minato. No corpses were mentioned.

I discarded the paper in a waste bin as I followed Mai out of Harajuku station. She tilted her head to one side and extended a hand, waiting for me to take it. I did, and together we stepped out into the cool air.

The sun had begun to settle but it was still quite warm. The cherry blossoms would bloom, soon, and the air smelled of spring. Mai wore a long, short-sleeved dress that hugged her slender hips. The light blue fabric complimented her smooth, golden skin. She went to the tanning bank twice a week. Her long, dark hair framed her narrow, youthful face that seldom showed any emotion.

I had met Mai in a Jazz club in Ebisu shortly after I moved to Tokyo. She was extraordinarily attractive and I was still captivated by her looks if not by her personality. She had made clear that she thought the same way about me, calling me a bore, but instead of restricting our relationship to a mere physical level she insisted on spending time with each other outside the bedroom.

I did not mind, knowing few people in Tokyo outside of work. I was not an outspoken person but I liked company. Thus, I agreed whenever Mai called and suggested we go out for dinner. I preferred to cook myself, but my apartment in Shinagawa was tiny, consisting of a bedroom and a small kitchen unit. The bathroom was down the hall. I admit that, although I felt comfortable enough there and the rent was low, it was not a place to invite your girlfriend over.

Mai had called me at work, telling me to meet her at Shinagawa station. She wanted to go shopping, and considering her age, twenty-two years, Harajuku seemed the appropriate place, with its stylish fashion stores and in-cafes.

"You're even more silent than usual" Mai said, pursing her lips. "Did something happen at work?"

I shook my head and looked from right to left before crossing the street. "No. I had a long day, that's all"

"I want to find a couple of shoes and dresses. My boss has given me a little extra money. He wants me to sing more often. Four to five times a week"

Her voice sounded bored but I knew she expected a reply.

"That's great. He's right, you are a wonderful singer" It was true. Mai, despite her fragile, slender frame, had a pleasant, smoky singing voice. I liked listening to her when she was on stage, performing mellow Jazz songs.

I was hungry. Despite a quick lunch I had not had anything to eat today, but Mai seemed determined to hit the stores, so I remained silent. I am a coward when it comes to women. They intimidate me. I never fail to be astonished by their beauty and grace, and I can't help to show my admiration by behaving like an obedient lap dog.

Teenagers still dressed in school uniforms crowded the streets and a couple of guys in their early twenties, their eyes lined with coal, brows and lips adorned with piercings, hair styled in the ever popular manga fashion, lingered on benches and chairs outside chic cafes. Their faces showed that cool and even expression which tended to draw girls' attention.

I took us two hours to sort through the stores that lined the street leading to Yoyogi Park. Mai tried on a huge assortment of dresses and shoes, and after a good share of compliments on my part she found three new outfits for which I paid.

"Look. A flower shop" she stated when I opened my mouth to suggest going to a noodle house. I followed her gaze. Next to a second-hand store stood a small shop, the glass front allowing view of a vast array of colorful flowers. The sign above the entrance door read Koneko No Sumu Ie.

"Would you like me to get you a bouquet?" I asked.

"Maybe" Mai replied. "Let's take a look inside"

Carrying her bags I followed her across the street, pushed open the door and let her enter first. The scent of roses and lilies engulfed us as we stepped inside, and for the first time tonight a smile graced Mai's delicate features.

I took a quick look around and spotted a wooden table and a set of matching chairs in the center of the room. Setting down the shopping bags on one of the chairs I tried to enjoy the surroundings to forget about the empty feeling in my stomach.

"Good evening, milady. How can I be of help?" Mai let out a girlish giggle at the words. 'Tacky' I thought and turned, then froze in mid-motion. A tall guy in his mid-twenties had stepped out from the back-room adjoining the shop. His chestnut hair was tied back in a loose pony tail and his sharp, handsome face was illuminated by the warm light of the sun that sent its last golden rays through the large windows.

I recognized him immediately. He was the guy I had seen this morning, leaning against his car, watching the crime scene with bored indifference.

While Mai leaned over the counter, asking the man for the adequate flowers to express happiness, the cop in me stirred.

'How can someone who works at a flower shop afford an expensive convertible? Was he a curious bystander, passing the crime scene on one of his deliveries?"

If the guy recognized me as well he did not show it. A pang of jealousy flooded me as Mai shuffled closer to him, eyes wide as she listened to his explanations, watching in awe as he chose a couple of flowers to create a bouquet for her.

"White lilies?" I heard myself ask. "Aren't those for funerals?"

He turned and cast me a smile. "Yes, in Western cultures they are. They stand for purity"

He chose a couple of tulips. "Lasting love" he explained. "And here, these Mimosa represent sensibility"

Mai seemed beyond pleased. I sighed and waited for him to arrange the flowers he had chosen. He displayed a lot of skill and aptitude, long, slender fingers moving quickly and gently to rid the stems of leaves and find the perfect spot for them in the bouquet.

I watched in silence, so did Mai.

"Here you are, miss" he finally announced. I paid him, finding it odd to pretend that his charm did not affect me or my girlfriend.

"Visit us again" He said as I picked up Mai's shopping bags and held open the door with one foot to let her exit.

"Thank you" Mai said, the smile not leaving her face until the flower shop was out of sight.

"I'm hungry" I declared. "How about some udon?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Boring. Let's have sushi before I head to work. Will you come to see the show?"

I suppressed a groan as I thought about my empty wallet. Sushi was expensive, and I kept wondering why Mai chose to go out with a cop when she could have easily attracted the attention of a wealthy doctor or lawyer.

"Sure. I'll be there" I said. I had the late shift the next day and would be able to sleep in. Looking forward to a night of Jazz and a whiskey and soda I followed Mai into the small sushi bar she had spotted across the street.


	4. Chapter 4

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 4

After dinner we walked to Yoyogi Station and took the subway back to Shinagawa where I had parked the car. I drove Mai to her apartment and waited on the small couch in the living room for her to get changed.

Leafing through a fashion magazine to pass time I leaned back, legs crossed. Perfectly styled, somber looking models looked back at me from glossy ads that made up half of the magazine's contents. My mind wandered back to the guy from the flower shop. An attractive, charismatic man like him making a living with selling flowers seemed odd, and I wondered whether it was intuition or envy that told me to pursue the matter further. It would not be difficult to find out his name and send it through the police computer.

Mai stepped out of the bathroom. She was dressed in an elegant silken dress now, one of those she had bought today. Her hair was up in a loose bun with a couple of stray strands framing her face.

"You look lovely" I told her and put the magazine down.

"We should head off now or I'll be late" she said, fastening the clip of a golden wristband.

When we arrived at the club I took a seat at one of the small, round tables by the stage and ordered a whisky and soda. Mai pecked a kiss on my cheek before joining the band on stage.

I nipped on my drink while listening to her performance of Gershwin's 'The Way You Look Tonight'. For the first time today I found myself relaxing.

During her short breaks Mai joined me at my table and drank white wine. Some of the guests approached her with song requests, and most of them she fulfilled.

It was shortly after midnight when my cell phone rang. I got up and took the call outside so as not to disturb the performance. The air had gotten chilly but I wore a long-sleeved shirt and did not mind.

"Hello?" I said and waited a couple of moments for a reply, hearing nothing but labored breathing from the other side of the line.

"Kitahara, you on duty?"

It was Iwase's voice. It sounded hoarse and slurred, and I thought he must have been drinking.

"No" I said. "I'm in Ebisu, at a Jazz club" I replied.

Another moment passed before Iwase answered. "Well, could you pick me up? I'm in Shibaura right now"

I looked at my watch. "Can't you catch the last train? You still have some time"

"No… I'm in a bit of trouble… Kritiker. I'll explain later, Kitahara."

I agreed and listened closely as Iwase gave me the address then went back inside to retrieve my jacket. Mai was still on stage and I left some money with the bar keeper so she could take a cab home.

Iwase's instructions led me to a rather dark, empty area of Shibaura. There were no clubs or bars, only company buildings and warehouses. I asked myself what business Iwase had here. Turning a corner I spotted a couple of large, black cars parked by the mouth of a narrow alley.

I drove past slowly, around a corner, turned off the engine and dialed Iwase's number on my cell phone. My pulse sped up but I was not surprised when no one answered. I briefly considered calling my colleagues at the station. The whole situation screamed 'crime'. My gun was safely locked away in my desk.

After a minute's contemplation I did call the station, identified myself and gave the officer on the other end of the line my position. Now I had to decide what to do next. It would have been sensible to wait in the car until reinforcement arrived, but for some reason my sense of self-preservation had shut down.

Maybe it was pride, maybe a sense of duty that made me leave the safety of my car. Iwase was somewhere out here, and I was certain now that he had not sounded drunk on the phone. He was injured.

Intending to take a peek around the corner before deciding on my next move my plans were foiled as I found myself staring down the barrel of an automatic. Slowly I raised my hands and remained silent as the tall man in the dark suit searched every fold on my body for weapons before motioning me with his gun to start walking.

A group of men and women dressed in black looked up from their conversation as they saw me approach. I immediately recognized the red-haired woman from this morning. Her eyes narrowed as I stepped closer but I did not hear what she said because my gaze drifted into the alley and caught the sight of a body, sprawled out on the ground.

It was Iwase, I realized, and he was dead. He wore a dark suit and white cotton shirt, the fabric stained crimson with blood that had poured from a wound somewhere in his chest.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the woman repeated. I drew my eyes away from Iwase and met her stern gaze.

"Minato Police Department" I said. "My partner called me"

Her expression relaxed somewhat. She nodded, and the man who had caught me lowered his weapon. "We will take care of this, officer. I will inform your superiors about this incident in the morning" the brisk redhead said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"What happened?" I asked, not making any attempt to leave. It was a stupid thing to do, but I was in shock, feeling numb. "Who did this?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. Please leave us to our work now" the woman replied. She sounded slightly annoyed.

I shook my head and approached Iwase's body. "He was my partner. What happened?"

The suit stepped in the way, gun in hand. I met his gaze and fought the urge to take a step back.

"Jeez, Manx, leave him alone. He doesn't know any better" I turned to make out the owner of the voice and felt my heart skip a beat as I saw who had stepped up behind the woman.

'The flower guy' I thought, my mind spinning. Iwase was dead, and now I was certain that the man from the flower shop had something to do with it. I swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to do.

The woman called Manx hissed something in his ear. She did not look pleased. After a short, whispered conversation she produced a cell phone from her jacket and dialed a number, walking a couple of steps while she talked.

"Who are you? What department do you belong to?" I insisted, addressing the stranger who shot me a small smile while lighting a cigarette.

"I'm sorry about your partner" he said. "I know what this must look like to you"

"Really?" I asked without taking my eyes off Mr. Suit. He was still blocking my view of Iwase. "What does it look like to me?"

I did not like the way flower boy talked to me, his voice calm and understanding, as if he was trying to console a frightened first-grader. I needed to buy time, until my colleagues arrived.

"To you this looks like a gathering of Yakuza who caught your partner sniffing after them" Flower boy continued, ignoring the sarcasm in my voice.

"And considering the fact that you got caught, too," he continued while smoking in long, lazy draughts, "the bottom line is: you are having a real bad day."

I nodded in agreement. The SOB was absolutely right.

An uneasy silence spread, the dark suits reluctant to continue their conversation while I was present. I could do nothing but wait for their next move. Although I remained calm, eyes fixed on the suit, my mind was in frenzy.

"Who are you?" I repeated, but before anyone would answer a police car arrived and two of my colleagues emerged. My heart skipped a beat and I finally dared to move.

Instead of supporting my matter, though, the two officers briefly scanned the scene, their faces pale with anxiety. They approached Manx and bowed repeatedly.

"We are truly sorry for the inconvenience" one of them explained. It was Hirose, a charismatic, extrovert officer two years my senior. We did not talk much outside of work but I liked his kind, relaxed attitude. None of his usual confidence was visible now. His eyes rested on me but I know he was talking to Manx. "Kitahara is new in the department"

Manx gave a court nod. "Just allow us to finish our work and I will forget about this incident" she said.

Hirose bowed again, took me by the arm and led me to his car. "You ride with me. Handa will take your car back to the precinct. We have to talk" he stated, and I obediently handed my car keys over to Hirose before climbing into the passenger seat, feeling deadened and confused.

xxx

author's note: I would like to thank all of you for those lovely reviews, and for your patience, considering that Weiss have not made an appearance so far.

All the best,

Comtess


	5. Chapter 5

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 5

"Iwase is dead" I said after we had driven along the main street for a couple of minutes in silence.

"I know" Hirose said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Orange street lights illuminated his face in regular intervals as we drove past. "Who killed him?"

Hirose seemed reluctant to answer. "Everything will be taken care of, Kitahara, this is not your case"

"I know that" I replied. "But if he was involved in shady business…"

My colleague raised a hand to silence me, and when I attempted to continue his expression hardened. "You are treading on thin ice, Kitahara. Do you really want to pursue this further? Think about Iwase's family. Whatever business he was involved in, it won't do any good to poke around in the dirt and stain his honor"

I was not sure what to make of Hirose's explanation. By now I distrusted everyone who seemed to withhold information from me. 'Corruption' was the word that flashed on and off in my head.

"What will they tell his wife?"

Once more Hirose seemed angry at my constant questioning, but after a moment's consideration he answered anyway. "He died honorably while fulfilling his duty as a detective of the Minato Police Force. That is the best consolation anyone can give her"

'And it will provide an explanation that no one will question' I thought.

"You have disobeyed the orders of a superior tonight, Kitahara" Hirose stated. "You should have left as soon as you were told to. Handa wants to see you in his office"

I was pretty certain by now that the only reason I had not gotten flat out fired, or worse, was the flower shop guy's interference. The red-haired woman had seemed determined to get rid of me as quickly as possible, and I would not put it past her or her shady department to bend the law a little and change the facts. One dead police officer or two, it would not have made a difference for them. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. What had I gotten into? Why did they not tell us at police school that the law did not apply to everyone? Maybe I would have chosen another profession then.

Hirose pulled the car onto the parking lot behind the police station and turned off the engine.

"How do you know about them? Those guys in suits? Who told you?" I asked Hirose.

He unfastened his seatbelt ad opened the door. He was ready to end this conversation. I was not.

"No one told me. You learn, after a while" he said dryly.

"Learn what?" I was starting to get irritated which was not a good thing considering that I began to lose my composure. Who could blame me after a night like this? "Learn about Kritiker?" I continued, throwing in the name Iwase had mentioned on the phone.

Hirose froze at my remark then slowly turned to watch me attentively.

"Don't fuck with them," he finally stated calmly, "Or they'll fuck with you. Leave the matter alone."

'What if I don't? What would I find?' I thought. It would have been stupid to say this out loud. If any of my colleagues or superiors had reason to suspect me sniffing around in things that I was supposed to keep my nose out of I would have been in more trouble than I apparently was already.

Silently, I followed Hirose into the building and made my way to the sergeant in charge. If I did not get it over with right away I would start thinking about what had happened tonight, and I would not find the strength anymore to endure another lecture.


	6. Chapter 6

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 6

I can not clearly remember the rest of the night. My boss, Handa, had given me yet another lecture about keeping my nose out of this matter. He had given me two days off, to get over the shock, he had claimed. I knew he did not want me around until things had calmed down but I was surprised nonetheless that he had not mentioned suspension or probation.

I woke to the ringing of the alarm clock. My head felt heavy and fuzzy from the whiskey I had bought after leaving the office, and I wondered what I should do with my free time. After a quick shower I went for a run in Yoyogi Park then visited a public bath. The hot water helped me to relax and to clear my head, although I could not refrain from pondering about the previous night's events.

Iwase had mentioned Kritiker, and I was certain that he had either referred to a criminal organization he had been after or to the special department that had already been at the crime site when I arrived. One possibility did not exclude the other, I decided.

Later that day I went shopping, not because I needed anything but to distract myself. I bought a Nick Cave CD and a pair of blue jeans, stopping at a noodle house afterwards. While eating my ramen I studied the newspaper but Iwase's death was not mentioned anywhere.

Maybe it was coincidence that I had walked all the way to Harajuku. At five o' clock I found myself standing across the flower shop. Girls in school uniforms exited the Koneko No Sumu Ie, giggling and chattering excitedly.

What I would say to him I did not know, but I found myself crossing the street, knowing that I would remain restless unless I confronted the stranger who had crossed my path more than once during the last couple of days and who had likely saved my neck the previous night.

I would not be able to intimidate him, of course. I still remembered staring into the mouth of Mr. Suit's gun, and I had no illusions about the way those people operated. However, I had to try and get answers. What department did he work for? How did they know about Iwase's whereabouts?

The doorbell jingled as I entered the shop. I was surprised to see someone I did not recognize standing behind the counter. It took one quick look at the cool expression of the redhead before me and I knew the Mishiba effect had set in.

Mishiba Toru was a popular Japanese actor, handsome, charismatic and talented. I did not watch his movies because I did not like looking at him. It was not envy or awkwardness that caused this repulsion. Some people had that effect on me. It did not matter whether someone was ugly or attractive; sometimes I saw a face and developed a dislike towards that person.

I once explained this to my ex-girlfriend when she insisted on seeing a Mishiba movie, and she found it hard to understand.

"He's a good actor. You don't even know him. How can you dislike him?" she asked.

I could not answer to that, and she eventually shrugged the matter off.

Facing the redhead behind the counter triggered the same repugnance in me. The Mishiba effect. The guy was handsome, in a cool, distant way, but he radiated nothing pleasant. Anger, annoyance, indifference, maybe.

I stepped up to him and asked whether his colleague was working today.

"Which one?" he asked while fixing me with oddly colored eyes.

I did not smile and did not expect him to do so, but the open hostility in his voice took me aback. Somehow this chance meeting had turned into a staring contest. Did he know who I was? It was probable that he belonged to the same department as his colleague.

"He is tall, with light brown hair and green eyes," I stated without averting my gaze.

"He's not in today"

The answer was short and brisk, and I did not feel like talking to the redhead longer than necessary. He did not offer me a name, nor did he give me any information on when the guy I was looking for would be back. With a court nod I turned and left the shop.


	7. Chapter 7

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 7

The following day I paid Iwase's widow a visit to give her my condolence. She lived in a terrace house in Ikebukuro. Iwase's Peugeot stood in the driveway, along with a children's bicycle.

An elderly woman opened the door and led me into the living room. I took a seat at the low beech wood table and marveled at the expensive furniture in the room. Iwase could not have afforded this from his salary alone, I thought.

Mrs. Iwase was a slender woman in her forties who would have been attractive had it not been for the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the fatigue on her face. She greeted me politely, and the old woman who had let me in, her mother, I guessed, returned with a tray of tea.

"It is very kind of you to come by" Mrs. Iwase said. I admired her composure.

"Iwase-san was a pleasant colleague. I am very sorry about what happened" I told her.

She gave a small smile and took a sip of tea.

"He was working on a dangerous case," I continued, "I deeply regret not being there when he needed support"

"He never talked about work. He did not want me to worry about him" she answered.

I nodded and we finished our tea in silence. There was nothing left to say. It was obvious she did not know anything about the matter, and I did not want to put her in a compromising situation by hinting at Iwase's possible involvement in illegal business. She was suffering enough as it was.

On my way home I picked up some groceries at a Family Mart. I did not feel like cooking dinner and decided on rice and steamed vegetables. I sat down on my futon as I waited for the rice to boil and listened to the Bad Seeds while reading a Gaiman novel.

My phone rang and I picked it up, the book draped across my lap.

"Hai," I answered the call.

"Kitahara Takeo?" A male voice I did not recognize asked.

"Hai." I waited for the man on the other line to continue.

"This is Kudo Yoji. I work at the Koneko No Sumu Ie. We have met before."

I sat up straight, attentive. "Yes," I replied, "I was looking for you yesterday"

I briefly wondered how he had gotten my number but knew it was unnecessary to ask. A guy like him would have no trouble finding out minor tings like this.

"So I heard" Kudo replied. "Are you free tonight? I'm on my way to a bar in Shibuya. We could meet up there."

Stunned, I discarded my book and got up. "Yes, I'm free." I answered and turned off the rice cooker.

"Meet me at 'Grace's."


	8. Chapter 8

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 8

Grace's was a small bar near the Parco department store. It was small and crowded; chart music filled the air along with the chatter of the guests and the smoke of cigarettes.

I found Kudo at a table near the bar. He was dressed in ragged blue jeans and a plain white tee. The clothes looked elegant on him and seemed to fit the place perfectly. He smiled as I took a seat across from him.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked as a waitress approached. He was nursing a bottle of Sapporo beer and I ordered the same.

I watched him light a cigarette. He leaned back in his chair and looked quite relaxed. "Why did you call me?" I asked him.

"You wanted to talk to me, didn't you?" he replied nonchalantly.

I nodded my head in agreement. "I did not think you'd be willing to speak to me."

Kudo smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "I want to give you some advice."

"What kind of advice?"

He remained silent until the waitress had set down my drink in front of me. "Stop digging," he finally answered.

"I've heard that advice quite often lately" I stated.

"All the more reason to take it." Kudo leaned forward and fixed me with green eyes.

I took a sip from my beer and declined as he offered me a smoke. "Am I on your list of targets?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

That answer did not do much to calm my nerves. "What did Iwase do?"

Kudo remained silent, his gaze contemplative.

"Who are the guys you work for?" I insisted.

Drawing up his shoulders Kudo took a deep drag from his cigarette and let the smoke escape through his parted lips. "You're pulling on a thread that's fastened to another one. Trust me, Kitahara, there's nothing to investigate."

His laid-back attitude started to annoy me but I warned myself to remain calm. He had the upper hand. All I could hope for was to get some answers. I did not care about the consequences right now. The prospect of turning a blind eye on the things that went on around me did not seem much more appealing than the danger of knowledge.

"Kritiker seems to be quite adamant about keeping their secrets." It was a shot in the blue but I seemed to have gotten it right. Kudo tensed almost invisibly.

"Kritiker keeps an eye on the police," he stated between puffs of smoke.

"Who keeps an eye on Kritiker?"

Kudo's face darkened. "Do you have family, Kitahara? You're from Sapporo, right? I'm sure they would not want their son to die while pursuing a goal without a cause." He finished his drink and motioned to the waitress to bring him another one. "Do you have a girlfriend in Tokyo?" he asked.

"I do. But I don't think she'd have difficulties to move on if something happened to me," I replied truthfully.

"Why's that, Kitahara?" I seemed to have gotten Kudo's interest. He arched a brow and observed me closely.

I shrugged. "It's hard to find someone you really care for in a place like Tokyo."

He nodded wistfully. "Tokyo is the perfect place if you want to remain anonymous."

I nodded.

"Does that bother you?" he asked.

"A little" I admitted.

Kudo let out a chuckle, but there was no humor in it. "Yeah, I guess we're all looking for that certain someone," he said. "But hey, you're young, you might just find the girl of your dreams, as long as you stop jeopardizing you life for nothing."

I finished my drink and fumbled for my wallet. I would not get any more information from him. He watched me with amusement. "You'll think about what I said?" he asked as I got up and left a couple of bills on the table.

"I'll think about it" I agreed, suddenly eager to leave the place.


	9. Chapter 9

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 9

To saiki.kensuke.yuuta: I'm sorry! I couldn't wait!

To my reviewers: Thank you for those wonderful reviews! Most of them influenced the course of the story, and I appreciate every single praise, advice and criticism!

xxx

When I returned to work no one mentioned Iwase's death. I noticed the occasional glances my colleagues sent me, and I assumed that word had gotten around concerning that night's incident.

I was not assigned a new partner, though, thus I figured my boss did not find it necessary to find me a chaperone. He was probably right, I assumed. There was not a lot I could do about what had happened.

Stop digging, Kudo Yoji had told me, and I wondered if he really thought me a threat. I had no influence, and the entire police department accepted Kritiker as a superior institution. Also, I had not forgotten the way I had felt that night, staring into the mouth of Mr. Suit's gun.

The week passed by without any major incidents. Thefts, suicides and robberies did not fall under my jurisdiction, thus I had a lot of time to finish leftover paper work.

I worked seven to eight hours a day, spending my free time at the Jazz club to listen to Mai's soothing voice, and at my apartment, reading and sleeping. I also found a Dojo in Shinjuku where I caught up on my Kendo and Karate practice, something I had neglected since moving to Tokyo.

Days turned into weeks and I drifted into a routine that was equally soothing as it was irritating. Too lazy to break with my daily habits I became used to them and eventually my initial interest for Kritiker and the events that evolved around them faded.

Early summer approached, the cherry blossoms had already fallen. Nick Cave sang about the beautiful world, about John Wilmot, Nabokov and St. John, and I sang along as I drove my Honda towards the office. It was five in the morning, I had early shift and traffic was thin.

When I arrived at the police department I fetched a coffee from the vending machine in the common room then proceeded towards the main hall from where a staircase led up to my office on the first floor.

My eyes were focused on the steam that welled up from the cup, and I ran into someone as I opened the glass door to the entrance hall. It was a young woman in a wheel chair, and my coffee spilled over her grey cotton trousers.

"Oh!" I took a step back, taken aback by her sudden appearance. She had smooth, black hair that shimmered a burgundy red where the light of the neon lamps caught it at the right angle. I muttered an apology and she arched a brow. The left corner of her mouth curled upwards. Tiny wrinkles appeared around her nose.

"Well, that's one reason more for me to find the Ladies' room" she stated.

I searched for my handkerchief and handed it to her. "I am very sorry," I repeated. "I will pay for the dry cleaner"

She smiled at that, fixing me with a pair of oddly colored eyes, and I felt small, even though she was looking up at me.

"It would be cheaper to buy a new pair of pants. These belong in the trash anyway. I was asking for the way to the Ladies' room" she replied. Her smirk turned into a small smile.

It took me a second to realize that she was not angry. "It's the second door to the right" I explained.

"Very well," she replied and maneuvered her wheelchair around me, draping my handkerchief over her lap, "And you better not be gone when I come back, because you owe me a cup of coffee."

She disappeared in the restroom and I went back to the coffee machine to get two new cups of coffee.

I sat down on one of the white chairs that lined the hallway and handed her the drink as she reappeared after ten minutes. In return, she gave me back my now stained handkerchief.

She accepted the cup and blew at the steaming liquid, obviously comfortable with the silence that hung between us.

"I'm really sorry. I'll pay for the pants," I said to cover my unease. I did not merely feel bad because I had spilled coffee on her pants. I also felt guilty because she sat in a wheelchair and I did not.

"Oh, stop it already. You're a cop, right? You can help me and we'll forget about the pants."

She extended a hand, a strange gesture because she clearly was not Western but Japanese.

"Fujimiya Aya," she said. "I got mugged, but apparently your colleagues don't seem inclined to do anything about it."


	10. Chapter 10

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 10

"I think you should report to the officer from the Public Safety Bureau," I said when she had finished her story. She had been cornered by a group of drunken boys, none of them older than sixteen, and they had taken her purse. None of them had threatened her. There was no need because she had been easy prey. I failed to understand the plague of coldness and indifference that had infected modern society. If Aya had been scared she did not show it.

She wrinkled her nose and took a sip from her coffee, which had gone cold by now. "I already told you that they are not going to do anything about it. They say the chance of finding them is practically zero, but I feel vindictive. I'd go after them myself if I could." She rolled her eyes. "As it is I'm afraid I rely on you guys."

Somehow I found the ease with which she said this highly inappropriate. Her voice was dogged rather than bitter. I tried to imagine how I would feel if I was in her place but quickly abandoned the thought again. "If you give me a description of the boys who stole your purse I will make sure to pass it on to someone who is responsible" I promised. "Maybe they will be stupid enough to use your credit card. Have you called your bank, yet?"

Her mouth fell open. "Damn. No. You think they've already bought a car with my money?"

I could not help but smile at her question. She did look sweet when she dropped her brisk, confident attitude for a second. "I doubt it. They were after the cash. What else was in your handbag?"

Aya thoughtfully traced the rim of her plastic cup with one finger. "My cell phone and my keys," she stated.

"Will you be able to get into your apartment? You will have to change the locks as soon as possible."

"The porter has a spare key." Aya looked seriously annoyed by now. She held the coffee cup between her teeth and briskly made her way down the hall to the trash can. I got up and followed her. I felt more comfortable talking to her while sitting down and being on eye level with her, but apparently she had decided that the conversation was over.

"What a pain in the ass," she mumbled as she waited for me to catch up with her before proceeding towards the exit. "Is there anything else I have to think of?"

"Well, you will have to apply for a new ID and freeze your mobile phone account," I explained, holding the door open for her, "But the credit card and the locks are more important right now."

Aya guided the wheelchair down the shallow ramp that led from the entrance door onto the sidewalk, and I followed her, using the stairs. I felt less awkward standing next to her than I had before. "If you write down a description of the guys I will make sure that my colleagues from Public Security start a search," I repeated. "How will you get home?"

"I haven't found a knight in shiny armor tonight who saves me from my distress," she replied, "But if you'd like to be the coachman…" A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and I knew she was making fun of me.

"I'm not sure your wheelchair…" I began.

"Don't worry. It'll fit. It's not one of those modern, luxurious computers on wheels, but it's foldable." Her smile widened. "I knew going for the cheap version would pay off one day."


	11. Chapter 11

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 11

Aya called me the next afternoon; one hour after my shift had ended. She said she had the descriptions I wanted, and suggested to meet me at a small coffee bar near her apartment in Ebisu.

I agreed and went home for a quick shower then took the JR line to Ebisu station. From there it was a ten minute walk to the small café that was located in a building which housed a couple of bars and restaurants.

She was sitting at a table by the door and waved at me through the large window when she spotted me. I entered, and once more she offered her hand in greeting. I shook it and wondered if she had lived in Europe or the United States for a while.

Aya looked very pretty in a summer dress and a light, woolen jacket. Her hair fell loosely onto her shoulders, and she wore no make up.

I had to think of Mai who always looked beautiful and glamorous. She did not like me to see her without make up and locked herself in the bathroom right after getting out of bed, not coming out until her skin looked flawless and her eyes shimmered dark and smoky.

We ordered coffee and tayiaki. To my surprise Aya lit a cigarette while we waited for our order to arrive. She noticed my astonishment and smiled lopsidedly.

"I don't drink, but I smoke too much. Nobody's perfect," she said. "What about you, Kitahara-san? Do you have any flaws? Tell me and make me feel better." She chuckled, and a dimple appeared on her cheek.

"My girlfriend says I'm boring," I stated.

Aya looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to go on. After a moment of silence she sighed. "Well, you're certainly not very talkative."

"Maybe she's right and I am vapid," I replied without conviction, simply to fill the conversational gap.

The waitress appeared with our drinks and food. Aya rummaged through a large, blue handbag and retrieved a folded piece of paper. "Here, this is what I remember. It's not much, I'm afraid. It was dark, and it all happened rather quickly."

I unfolded the sheet and scanned the information, written down in large, messy characters. "Dyed blue hair" I mumbled. "Pierced eyebrows and lips, leather pants, Kookaï shirt." The description of the other boys read very much the same. "That really is not a lot to go on," I concluded. "They look like regular teenagers who spend their time in Shibuya rather than attending school."

"I know." Aya stubbed out her cigarette and took a bite from one of the anko-filled cakes. "I guess I'll just have to accept the fact that they have gotten away with it."

"You're lucky that they did not get violent. They might have attacked you if you had been…" I interrupted myself and took a sip from my too hot coffee in order to cover my embarrassment.

"If I had been able to put up a fight?" Aya suggested. "If I had been able to run?"

There was no scorn in her words, only mild irritation. I remained silent.

"Come on, ask me already," she demanded, tapping her finger against my hand. "Everybody thinks it's a crime to ask."

I met her gaze and shuffled on my chair. "How did it happen?" I asked.

"I was in the way of a car," Aya answered. "I was in a coma for two and a half years. I can't feel anything from the navel down. As far as I know the driver of the car died a while ago."

An uneasy silence spread between us, and I frantically tried to think of a reply.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You feel bad now, don't you? That wasn't my intention." She smiled and took another bite from her cake. "You said you work in the homicide department. I always thought you guys were tough and unshakable. Maybe I watch too many movies."

She really was lovely, I thought. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it. I thought about switching departments for a while, but then people might think I can't handle."

Aya laughed. "Yes, no matter what they say, it does matter what others think of you." She moistened her finger and picked the remaining crumbs of cake from her plate. "I illustrate children's books. It's not as exciting as police work, but it pays well and I'm quite happy. I can work at home and have a lot of free time."

"You must be very talented," I said, knowing nothing about children's books.

"I'm no Charles Folkard, but I do have my own little fan community," she replied.

We chatted for another hour, and Aya told me about work, about her brother who took care of her since her parents died, and about the problems of being stuck in a wheelchair. She was energetic without being rumbustious.

I found myself enjoying the conversation and revealed some things about my own life. About being an only child, raised by conservative parents, about my decision to leave Sapporo to live an independent life in Tokyo, and about the trouble I had to settle in.

When I left I assured her I would try my best to find the boys who had stolen her purse, and she smiled and told me not to worry too much about it. By now I was determined, though, to find them.


	12. Chapter 12

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 12

I was on night shift when I received the call. A couple that had strolled along the beach had found a body half-hidden behind a canopied beach chair, and another one in the water by a pier, washed up by the tide.

Sodium lamps lit the way as I steered my car through the tunnels that had been constructed parallel to the coast line. At five a.m. I parked my car on the public parking lot that lay next to the freeway, being the only intermediary between the hectic traffic of Minato Prefecture and the relative calm of the beach. I arrived on the crime scene along with two other police officers. One of them was Hirose.

The beach was empty, a couple of sea gulls cried in the distance. They would be here soon, trying to get to the bodies in hope of an early breakfast. The sun had just begun to raise its red dome out of the water, and our surroundings appeared in undistinguishable shades of grey.

My colleagues were greeted by the shocked couple and immediately began the interrogation. The young man held his girlfriend tightly. She was sobbing, and he patted her back as he told the officers once again how they had found the corpses.

I walked over to the body by the water and put on a pair of latex gloves before pulling it onto the beach. Forensics would not be pleased, but I had to make sure that he would not be swept away. Reluctantly I started to examine the corpse.

It was a man in his forties, dressed in an expensive suit. Brown eyes stared at me with the empty gaze of the dead. At the moment I noticed his torn shirt and the four parallel gashes across his chest I knew that it would not be long before the red haired woman Manx and her squad appeared on the scene. I had seen a wound like that before, a couple of weeks ago in the warehouse. That had been my first encounter with Kritiker.

Kritiker, the organization I knew nothing about but which influenced my life in ways I could not control, had grown into my bête noire, and the fact that they clearly were superior opponents did nothing to ease the grudge I held against them.

I had picked up the occasional information from my colleagues who murmured wild speculations about Kritiker's origin and purpose to each other in the hallways. Sometimes Kritiker were a Yakuza syndicate, at other times they were a secret police force installed by Tokyo Metropolitan Police itself, and now and then I heard rumors about an European organization that rooted in medieval times and was led by a powerful conglomerate of businessmen, scientists and politicians.

All of these were Chinese Whispers, though, and I did not expect anyone who knew any specific facts regarding Kritiker to be willing to talk about it or to be still alive to do so.

I cast a quick glance over to my colleagues. Hirose was still busy talking to the couple; the other was examining the second corpse. When I was certain that no one was looking I checked the victim's pockets. I found a black leather wallet that contained a considerable amount of cash, an ID, a driver's license, a couple of credit and calling cards.

Time was not on my side, and I quickly scanned the visiting-cards. One of them caught my attention. It was dark blue, with silver embroidery around the edges. The paper was thick and expensive. 'Blue Moon' it said in silver characters, nothing else. There was an address scribbled down in black ink on the other side, and I memorized it before putting it back into the wallet and the wallet back into the man's pocket.

When I got up I spotted a group of people in the distance that approached me at a brisk step.

'There they come,' I thought, and waited in silence.

"Thank you, officers. We will take care of this now," Manx announced. She was in a bolshy mood, and I obediently motioned for my colleagues to follow me back to the car.


	13. Chapter 13

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 13

The newspapers reported an unlucky drowning incident that had involved a private party on a sailing ship and a considerable amount of alcohol. Kritiker had once more used their influence to cover up the facts.

My research revealed that the Blue Moon was a night club in Roppongi Hills, and the hand-written address on the calling card matched its location.

It was not a secret but certainly an exclusive establishment and I could well imagine the dead, well-dressed man from the beach to have been a regular there.

Roppongi was known for its luxurious shopping malls and expensive restaurants. American and German tourists crowded the streets in search for memorable nights they could tell their friends and families about when they returned to their respective home countries.

I had once taken Mai out to an over-priced dinner there but otherwise avoided the area. Now it was time to get familiar with the posh party crowds and find a way to blend in. I would need help.

"What? You're going clubbing and you want me to dress you?" Mai sat up in bed and looked over at me. I folded my hands beneath my head and drew my gaze away from the ceiling. We had spent the evening in her apartment. Mai had prepared a nice dinner after which we had made love.

"Yes," I said, "I need to look presentable."

Mai pursed her lips and rearranged the red silk shawl she had draped over the lamp on her nightstand to add atmosphere to the bedroom. "You haven't asked me if I'd like to come with you," she observed.

"It's a business meeting. You would not enjoy yourself." I answered and hoped the lie would not show on my face.

She remained silent for a moment then got up and walked toward the door. I heard her rummaging about in the kitchen, and she returned with a glass of water. I let my eyes wander over her long legs and narrow hips.

"Are you seeing someone else?" she asked.

I shook my head and sat up. "No. It's a meeting between colleagues and a couple of superiors. I need to crawl up their backsides for a while, and I'd rather not have you around to watch."

"Jeez, Takeo, why do you have to be so damn stiff all the time? No one will arrest you for using cusswords every once in a while. You sound like my grandmother." Mai sat down on the mattress next to me and I took her hand.

"Will you help me to find an outfit? I want to make a good impression."

Mai looked me up and down. "It will be an interesting challenge," she decided.

"I will take you out for dinner next week. We'll go dancing afterwards," I promised.


	14. Chapter 14

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 14

On Thursday, after work, Mai took me shopping. We went to the huge Parco department store in Shibuya, and I was soon overwhelmed by the immense number of boutiques that covered every possible style and taste. Tokyo was a consumer's paradise.

After six hours of trying on various outfits we chose a pair of smart, black pants that were a little too tight for my taste but a must-have, Mai assured me, a silk shirt that, according to my girlfriend, was the color of fiery chromo oxide green and flattered my well-defined chest, and a pair of black leather shoes.

Mai also insisted on buying a soft, black leather bracelet which cost nearly as much as the rest of the outfit.

I invited her to dinner afterwards, and we decided to meet up at her place the next evening to get me ready for my night out.

In her bathroom I showered, shaved and clipped my nails then put on my new garments. Mai handed me a bottle of aftershave, a present, she claimed. She then dried and brushed my hair before applying some gel to keep it from falling into my eyes and ruffled it skillfully to give me the appearance of one of those 'I just got out of bed but I look splendid' models in the fashion ads.

When she was done she took a step back and looked me up and down. I liked the look she gave me. It was a mix of surprise, affection and pride, and I could see that she was reluctant to let me go out by myself. I assumed I did not look half bad.

I took the Eidan Hibiya Line to Roppongi and arrived at the Blue Moon at ten o' clock. There was a short queue at the entrance, and by the time the impeccably dressed bouncers had searched and waved me inside it was half past ten.

A flight of carpeted stairs led to the club and I passed a large mahogany table on my way upstairs on which stood a large silver tray that held the establishment's calling cards. I took one and examined it closely. It was gold and red and looked official. The club's name, address and phone number was printed on it, and it did not resemble the one I had found in the victim's wallet.

I had either tracked down the wrong club, or the visiting-card the dead man had carried was an item that allowed access to special areas, I assumed.

I expected soft piano music and chandeliers as I entered the club room but was greeted by artificial fog and the thumping of drum and bass. People were slouching on cushions that covered small alcoves in the walls which reminded me of honeycombs in a beehive. A circular, transparent bar stood in the center of the dance floor, and I made my way through a mass of writhing dancers and waited patently until one of the barmen took my order.

If there was any information I could gather at this place about the recent murder it was hard to come by. I took my time to finish my scotch and soda while scanning the room for hints. I was about to give up and go home when I spotted a familiar face.

Kudou Yoji was leaning casually against a wall, dressed in rugged blue jeans and a sleeveless black shirt, one hand holding a bottle of beer, the other one resting on the small of a woman's back.

She was quite a stunner. Chocolate skin, sharp eyes, high cheek bones, full lips and a trim, athletic built with endless legs caught my eye.

For once there was someone more beautiful than Kudou. He knew it, too, and showed her off proudly, like a trophy.

She did not seem to mind the attention, nor did she appear to be flattered. Her smile was charming, and I could read Kudou's expression quite clearly as she leaned over to whisper something in his ear while her eyes scanned the crowd and her slender fingers traced the rim of her glass.

He looked at her with affection and longing, but beneath his obvious display of emotions shone something else. A sadness that surprised me, until I realized why it was there.

He would not be able to get involved closely with this woman, not while he was working for Kritiker. My envy at his good looks and his charm faded, giving way for pity. For the first time since I've spotted him by the harbor I realized that I did not want to be like him.

Kudou seemed to have spotted someone across the dance floor. He pulled the woman close and whispered something in her ear then made his way across the room. I counted to ten then followed him. I briefly lost sight of him but spotted him again as I pushed past a couple of girls that flirted with a young man who seemed to be in utter bliss.

A bouncer stood in font of a heavy wooden door at the far side of the room. Kudou retrieved something from his pocket and held it between index and middle finger. It was a visiting-card. The bouncer nodded and opened the door to let Kudou pass.

I went back to the bar and ordered another drink then found a spot from where I could watch the door without being seen. A girl approached me and started a conversation, and I talked to her while keeping an eye on the door.

Twenty minutes later Kudou emerged again, with a casual expression. He disappeared in the crowd, and I wondered what had been going on behind that door.


	15. Chapter 15

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 15

Mai called me in the morning.

"How was it?"

I sat up in bed and smoothed out my pajamas. "It was okay."

"Did you meet anyone?"

'Bless her straightforwardness,' I thought.

"One girl talked to me, but it's nothing you need to worry about."

Mai remained silent for a while and I got up to pour some water into the rice cooker.

"Was the club any good? Will you take me there some time?"

Mai would not let go of the topic.

"I didn't like it there. You like the Womb, don't you? I hear Sven Väth is going to be there." I said. I would return to the Blue Moon, but I had no intention of taking Mai with me.

I rummaged through the small commode I used to store food and found a bag of rice.

"You don't like the Blue Moon? Why not? I had a gig there, once. I thought it was swell."

"You did?" I replied, surprised. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did. A couple of months ago. You never listen." Mai sounded angry.

"I'm sorry. Tell me again. How was it? Who arranged the gig?" I wanted to ask more, but I warned myself to be cautious.

"Jeez, you sound like a cop now. A reporter wrote an article about me and the manager of the Blue Moon called me and asked if I'd like to perform on a Christmas party they housed. You promised to take me dancing. I'm free tonight. Pick me up at ten."


	16. Chapter 16

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 16

I became a regular of the Blue Moon in the following couple of months. The plain aluminium bar I had bought instead of a closet due to the lack of space in my apartment bent under the heavy weight of chic pants and blazers I now owned thanks to Mai.

Despite our new habit to go shopping together my relationship with Mai suffered greatly. I spent my as much time as I could without her, refusing to take her along. Us being friends, not a couple, was the appearance I wanted the outside world to get regarding our relationship. Should anyone find out about me sniffing around in shady business everyone close to me would be endangered. I could not explain this to Mai, though; I would have given away too much information.

Kudou Yoji showed up in the club occasionally, and sometimes I spotted the redhead who worked at the flower shop with him. They seemed to take turns showing up there, and I was quite certain they had spotted me at some point but apparently did not feel threatened by my presence.

I made a few loose acquaintances, other regulars and bartenders recognized my face, and I returned their friendly greetings and participated in small talk, stating I was a salary man when asked. However, I had not succeeded yet in obtaining information about the happenings on the other side of the door that Kritiker's agents were allowed to pass.

At work things quickly settled down, routine took over. The only thing of interest to me was the murder of a high-ranking Yakuza, a prominent figure in the import export business. The man Yoshikawa had been the Kobun, the son of an Oyabun and thus one of the highest-ranking members of the clan.

The curious thing about the incident was the way he had been killed. Incapettramento. This was a technique the Italian mafia used to kill their victims. Hands and feet were bound behind the back. The same rope ran across the throat and the victim died of self-strangulation.

Yoshikawa's body had been dumped by the statue of Hachikō, a famous meeting point outside Shibuya station. Shibuya did not belong to my district, and the police refrained from pursuing the matter.

Since the blunt murder was an obvious insult directed at the Oyabun the clans would settle the matter among themselves. Tension hung thick in the air nonetheless, and everybody anticipated a possible war between the clans which would certainly affect innocents.

"What do you think about the Yoshikawa case?" Aya asked me. I was sitting on the couch in her living-room and cast her a curious glance, puzzled by her sudden question.

Mai had phoned me earlier that evening and told me she wanted a break. She complained that we had encountered a dead-end and that it might be a waste of effort to maintain our relationship. I agreed but it stung nonetheless.

Aya and I had become friends after our first couple of encounters and I had hoped to get some advice concerning my love-life, thus her sudden change of topic surprised me. If anything, I would have expected her to ask about my investigation concerning the muggers that had taken her purse.

"There is no case," I told her, not wanting to discuss work matters with her.

Aya reached out to rearrange her legs on the couch and find a more comfortable position to sit. She looked angry.

"You could at least tell me your opinion. I am surrounded by men wherever I go. You, Ran, his colleagues, and I noticed a certain tendency men show when talking to me. It's all about the weather, music or relationships. What would I know about it anyway? I turn heads because I'm crippled, not because guys find me attractive. Politics and economics seem to be taboo. Why is that? Has nothing changed during the last couple of centuries? Are women still considered incapable of grasping certain concepts?"

Her voice was calm and firm but I knew her well enough to tell that this was an outburst. I gave a lopsided smile, attempting to hide my unease.

"Well, women's brains are smaller than men's brains. It has been proven scientifically."

Immediately I knew that this had been the wrong thing to say. Aya's expression froze.

I opened my mouth to apologize for the cheap joke but she waved her hand and heaved herself into the wheelchair.

"Aya," I said but she shushed me and made her way to the kitchen where I heard her rummage around.

She returned a couple of minutes later with a glass of water and a saltshaker, carrying both in her lap.

"You know how much of our brains we use?" she asked, setting the glass down on the table in front of her.

"Ten percent," I said.

"The water in this glass represents the ten percent of the brain we, men and women, use."

Aya looked at me to make sure she had my full attention. She did.

"The salt," she continued and started pouring some of the saltshaker's contents into the glass, "represents knowledge."

I watched the salt grains dissolve in the water.

"The brain is the carrier, the salt is the essence. You can't see knowledge."

She bit her lip then unscrewed the shaker and emptied the rest of the salt into the glass, stirring the water with her finger until it was a clear liquid again.

"How can you measure scientifically how much knowledge one has collected?"

I nodded. She was dwelling on this matter way too long for my taste.

"You made your point. I'm sorry," I said. "I just don't feel like talking about murder right now."

Aya smirked. "Because you suffer from a broken heart?"

I thought about this. "I don't think my heart is broken."

"No," Aya agreed, "it isn't. Your pride is damaged. You want me to tell you that you're a great guy and that you will find someone who makes you happy."

I smiled. "Maybe. Yes."

Aya snorted. "Then you have to tell me the same. And you better mean it,"

I met her gaze and felt a chill creep up my spine. I couldn't. Aya was right, I had no right to whine about a failed relationship. Although no one would consider me to be a prince charming I had certain qualities that aroused women's interest.

Aya was a smart, funny, intelligent girl, but her impairment reduced her chance of happiness in a relationship because no man would be able to ignore the wheel chair.

She bit her lip when I remained silent. "See?" she whispered. "You're not so bad off. This is my way of making you see clearly."

Without another word she turned and disappeared in the bedroom.

I felt worse than I had in a long time It was the first time Aya showed her true feelings about being stuck in a wheelchair. Usually she acted lively and responded with sarcasm to anything to do with her impairment and I had come to believe that she was fine with her situation. What a complete moron I had been became clear to me now.

Aya probably regretted by now to have been this open and wished she had not displayed her emotions freely, but what was done was done. I followed her into the bedroom and found her staring out of the small window that gave view to the building next door which housed a Laundromat, a cheap noodle house and a small number of apartments.

"You're beautiful, Aya, you're a great girl and you will find someone who makes you happy, and I mean it," I said and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She turned to meet my gaze. Her eyes were moist. "When? Who?"

I knelt down and buried my nose in her hair. "Whenever you want," I said. I knew it was unnecessary to explain about the 'who'.

Again I realized what an idiot I had been. No man would be able to ignore the wheelchair - including me. I had been oblivious to her feelings, and to mine. Aya smiled. I returned the smile, and at the same time I felt my heart sink. Had I told her the truth? Would I make her happy? I was not a brave guy, but for the first time in my live I decided to show courage and go for it. I could not possibly know if I would make her happy but I could try. I would.

Aya wrapped her hands around my neck, and her scent overwhelmed me. Her hair smelled of elder, and now that the warm skin of her neck brushed against my lips I took in the scent of woman, of salt and milk and youth. My head started to spin.

"Take me to bed," Aya whispered, and I did.


	17. Chapter 17

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 17

While my relationship with Aya deepened my interest in the Blue Moon and its exclusive 'members only' section faded. I stopped going there altogether when not only I grew frustrated with the slow progress of my investigations but also felt anxious about getting involved with folks that would likely be able to harm my girlfriend in order to get to me should I ever become more than a minor nuisance.

August brought humidity and earthquakes, and a veil of dusty sweat and exhaustion clung to the city and its ever busy inhabitants.

Aya and I took the car to Harajuku where we were supposed to meet her brother. She was dressed in a lovely floral skirt and cream colored blouse. Attempting to look my best I had chosen a pair of neat linen pants and a white polo shirt.

Despite my protests Aya had chosen not to tell her brother about me beforehand. She wanted our first meeting to be a surprise. She had seemed a little nervous all morning about introducing me and her unease was infectious although I fought to appear relaxed.

I commented on the current music scene, joked about tourists and suggested a trip to Okinawa.

Aya smiled at me and replied to my questions but otherwise remained silent as I pushed her wheelchair through the afternoon crowd of shoppers.

I was in the middle of a monologue concerning Europe's protest against Japan's overfishing of blue fin tuna when for the first time since we parked the car and started walking I realized where Aya was leading me.

"Over there, across the street," she said and pointed towards a set of glass doors that stood open and gave view to an array of colorful orchids in small terracotta flowerpots and cut roses in green plastic vases.

It was the flower shop Kudou Yoji worked at. Aya must have noticed my distress by now because I made no move to approach the Koneko no Sumu Ie further but instead stood glued to the spot, eyes fixed on the building across the street.

"Are you all right Takeo?" Aya turned awkwardly in her wheelchair to get a good look at me. I fought for composure and managed a lopsided smile. Kudou Yoji was Aya's brother then? Maybe he was a half-brother because of his western features. They would explain Aya's tendency to give handshakes instead of nodding her head in greeting.

Too dazed to pursue the thought any further I started walking towards the flower shop. As soon as we arrived at the door a young, bleach blond guy in a green apron hurried towards the wheelchair and caught Aya in a firm hug. He was barely eighteen years old, I guessed, a school boy working at the flower shop after class.

"Hey Aya, you look great! It's good to see you! I'm so sorry, I've been meaning to call but…"

Aya interrupted the boy's rush of words with a laugh and ruffled his hair. "Breathe, Omi, it's good to see you, too." She reached for my hand and pulled me from behind the wheelchair until I stood next to her.

"Omi, meet Kitahara Takeo", Aya introduced me.

I indicated a bow and opened my mouth for a set phrase when I noticed the expression on Omi's face. As he looked at me his brow furrowed, and after a split second his face paled ever so slightly. He regained his composure quickly, though, and I returned the smile he shot me.

"Aya."

The dark, melodious voice made me look up and my throat went dry. The guy who had addressed Aya had stepped through a door that was hidden behind a curtain and probably led to a private section of the house. He now rounded the counter and slowly approached my girlfriend.

It was Mishiba Toru. Or rather the guy who radiated Mishiba Toru all the way. Except right now he did not. His handsome face bore a soft smile as he bent down and kissed Aya on the cheek, and his expression did not change when he straightened again and nodded at me in greeting.

"Ran, this is Kitahara Takeo, my boyfriend. Takeo, this is my older brother Fujimiya Ran".

Fujimiya showed no sign of recognition. His continuing friendliness towards me did nothing to soothe me, though. Outwardly he seemed pleasant enough but the stiffness in his back was obvious, and I thought I could make out a strained undertone in his voice.

The boy Omi excused himself and Aya's brother motioned us to sit at the wooden table in the center of the shop before closing the front doors and offering us some iced Oolong tea.

"It's good to see you this happy, Aya-chan. Why did you keep Takeo-san a secret?" Fujimiya Ran asked. His smile was still intact and his tone calm but he had stopped looking at me ever since our introduction. That would not have seemed alarming had it not been for the fact that he was obviously putting up an act just as I was. He had recognized me, I was sure, and he had a hard time not ripping my head off. I had a sister, too, and knew only too well how protective brothers could get. I could feel the animosity boiling beneath Fujimiya's skin. I shuddered.

"I didn't want you to scare him away before I got the chance to get him into bed," Aya replied with a huge grin and succeeded in making both me and her brother blush beet-red.

"Is that a beautiful lady telling bedtime stories for grown-ups over there or am I having a pleasant dream?"

Had I not been on the edge I would have laughed out loud at the situation I now found myself in. My girlfriend had dragged me into the lion's den, and while her angry brother was sitting next to me and probably had murder fantasies about me Kudou Yoji of Kritiker was approaching with swift steps, smile wide, gestures nonchalant.

"You're a horny bastard, Yoji-kun, but I love you anyway," Aya greeted the tall man. Once more she introduced me and Kudou and I played our act, pretending we had never met before and were oh so delighted to get to know each other.

There was a lot of talking about Aya's career as an illustrator while we finished our iced tea. Aya made a couple of references regarding my profession and how we first met but neither her brother nor Kudou seemed overly interested.

Half an hour or so into the conversation Kudou's stomach growled loudly. He leaned forward and beamed as if he had just had a great idea.

"Aya-chan, why don't you two stay for dinner? There's a take-out sushi bar 'round the corner. My treat".

Aya agreed and after a short bicker between her and Kudou it was decided that Aya and Omi would get the sushi while the others would show me around the house.

Aya shot me a worried glance but her brother and Kudou had apparently behaved nice enough to convince her that it was safe to leave me in his care. I gave her a reassuring smile despite the knot of dread that was forming in my stomach.

"We'll be back before you can say 'Negi-toro rules!'" Aya shouted over her shoulder as Omi pushed her wheelchair through the door.

I suppressed the urge to get up and follow her into safety but a pathetic burst of pride glued me to my chair. We were sitting around the table, Fujimiya, Kudou, and I, smiling at each other awkwardly until Aya was out of sight. The second her wheelchair disappeared around the corner Fujimiya's hand shot forward and grabbed my elbow in a ridiculously painful grasp. I had no idea where he had learned this move but it was highly effective. Breathless with pain I had no chance to cry out nor was I able to resist my captor who had put on a positively malevolent snarl and was pushing me through the door behind the counter.

"Welcome to our home, Kitahara-san. Enjoy the tour", Kudou announced aggressively as he followed us out of the shop and into the living section of the building.

"Let's start with the sitting room. It is small but cozy and houses a collection of assorted movies as well as an entertainment system that leaves no desire unfulfilled". Through the pain I could make out a square room. A big leather couch was propped against one wall. The opposite wall disappeared behind an enormous plasma screen, framed by equally huge loudspeakers. Black metal shelves held hundreds of DVDs.

Fujimiya pushed me through the next door. I saw a large refridgerator standing next to a sink and a plain work top.

"This is the kitchen," Kudou explained needlessly, "and that sexy muscle man sitting at the table over there, that's Hidaka Ken, a colleague of ours and very fond of Aya-chan. He does not approve of bad men taking advantage of her because they want to play 'Beverly Hills Cop Goes to Tokyo, Eddy M. style. Feel me?".

Fujimiya released his clutch on my elbow, knowing that I would not fight him because in the center of the kitchen, at a large, western style table with four chairs sat a dark-haired guy and pointed an automatic at me.


	18. Chapter 18

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 18

When I was in police school our instructors taught us how to evaluate a hostage situation correctly, which involved the thorough analysis of the criminal's mind. Although Japan is not a country with a hostage per capita consumption that compares to that of Rio de Janeiro or Moscow, there had been two incidences during my time of service – an overworked salaryman who had tied his newly-wed wife to the kitchen sink, refusing to ever leave the house again, and an overly nervous, small-time robber who had threatened his victim with a kitchen knife when she wouldn't let go of her purse and yelled out for the police – both of which had ended peacefully enough thanks to my negotiations with the respective hostage-taker.

Excuse the vanity implied, but I always thought myself skilled at judging people and at predicting their moves. Being the hostage rather than the negotioator, though, staring into the barrel of a gun with Fujimiya Ran grinding my face into the table, I utterly failed at recollecting everything I had learned at training school.

My left cheek and temple burned from being used as a wood drill while my right eye, though Fujimiya's merciless hand impaired most of my vision, stayed focused on the weapon pointed at me.

Things are so much different when you are not the observer, but the hostage, and adrenalin is pumping through your veins and your heart makes every Fifty Cent beat sound like cat paws on a Persian Carpet.

Out of options, because I was barely able to move, I listened to Kudou Yoji's voice coming from somewhere behind me. Gone was the purring undertone and the caramel-like softness he had sported while talking to Mai and Aya. His voice was hard now, all business.

"You little pice of dirt. Someone truly must have shit in your fucking brain. You thought we would let you have your way with Aya? I'm lost, though, enlighten me..."

His mouth was close to my face now, his breath brushing my ear, his voice a mere whisper.

"How in the world did you think you'd get through with this? I know you're a naive, law-abiding Kojak-wannabe, but I never took you as braindead."

I did not have to ask what he was talking about. I knew what they all were thinking. I remembered all of them now from the Blue Moon. I had met Yoji before but the others were good at what they did – whatever that was – and I would never have busted their cover if they had not revealed themselves as... as what? Part of Kritiker? Freelance killers? I could not think straight.

"I didn't know", I gasped, but my mouth was deformed by Fujimiya cracking hold on my head, and the words came out as a slurred, incomprehensible mumble.

My captor released his grip and spun me around, just to conjure a knive out of nowhere and press the blade against my throat, straining the skin to the point of oozing a tiny drop of blood.

These guys were professional killers, and they were angry. I had been a mere amusement for them so far, a wannabe sleuth who had made a hobby out of tracking them without being a danger. But now, getting nowhere in my investigations, I had sprouted an audacity that shocked them. I had approached Fujimiya's little sister and lured her into bed in order to get to Kritiker...

"I didn't know", I repeated breathlessly, trying to move away from the knife point in vain.

Had I come to the flower shop on my own, they would have beaten me to pulp. Aya was with me, though, getting dinner for everyone just around the corner, and she would be back, soon. That knowledge gave me hope, and I ignored the nagging thought at the back of my head which told me Omi had found something to distract her for a long while so her brother could make up a story about me having to leave...

"Fuck that, Kitahara! You're gonna lose this pissing match." Kudou's voice was calm now. He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed before his chest.

"You will end the relationship with Aya. You will leave town. You will never return. We do not have any problems seeing you dead, but Aya will find your disappearance much more believeable if she has proof of you living safe and sound happily ever after."

'So Aya does not trust them. She'd go digging'. The thought entered my mind lightning quick, but it did not leave as easily. My hands, already sweaty and shaking, gripped onto the hem of my polo shirt. Did Aya know about Kritiker? She could not be into this...

"She doesn't know", Fujimiya whispered into my ear, reading my thoughts and drawing another drop of blood as he increased the pressure of the blade on my throat ever so slightly. "She doesn't know, but she's not stupid."

"I know", I answered, vivid images of Aya dancing though my head. Aya phoning the police station, asking where I was. Aya, looking for my familiy to find out about my whereabouts. She was not the type to accept her fate and let her lover desert her without a goodbye. And I was willing to bet my right hand that she had ideas about her brother's secret life.

I stuttered something about meeting her at the police station, about the robbery, and about falling for her but I sensed the sneers on my captors' faces before I saw them.

Fujimiya's knive pierced another thin layer of tissue, and this time I jerked my head away and took a step to the side. I know that the silent one, Hidaka, was still pointing his gun at me, but I was too hyped up from fear and anger by now to care.

My sensei at the domo used to scold me for my lack of confidence and told me not to let mercy hold me back during fights. I always thought myself a good negotiator and a bad fighter. I was calm, reasonable, dutiful and a little boring. But I was not a fighter.

Go adrenalin.

The step away from Fujimiya brought enough distance between us so I could bring my knee into painful contact with his arm and catch his knife as it dropped out of his hand. Before Hidaka's gun went loose I ducked behind the table and slid under it, using my shoulders to stem it up and to bury Hidaka under it.

I was not surprised as Kudou and Fujimiya got hold of my arms at the same time. A knee connected painfully with the small of my back and strong hands twisted my arms, forcing the knive from me and me to my knees.

"You're dead, Kitahara," Fujimiya hissed.

I tried to wriggle free from his grip despite the burning pain that shot up my arms, and Kudou grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back.

"You are one stupid son of a bitch, Kitahara. So sad", he hissed.

"Whatever it is you think of me, you're wrong." I fought for breath. I knew I sounded pathetic, but the trio from hell had hammered a certain amount of desperation into me.

"Tough. Shit." Hidaka had freed himself from under the table and was crouching before me with cold eyes, pressing the gun against my forehead with a force that would leave a dent and a migraine. I hoped I lived long enough to experience it.

Yoji brought his face at level with mine. His voice sounded curiously tired now. "I had hoped you'd show reason. But it's too dangerous to have a madman walking around, messing with us. You're dead."

"The _fuck_ he is!"

Everybody in the room, including me, froze at Aya's sharp yell.


	19. Chapter 19

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 19

An eternity passed in which no one uttered a single word. Hidaka slowly withdrew his gun a couple of inches but remained attentive, ready to pull the trigger any time.

Aya looked at each of us for a second, then her eyes rested on me for a while. I felt a sharp sting in my chest as I realized the confusion and distrust in her expression were directed at me. I swallowed hard.

"Aya, I..."

"I'm not stupid, you know." Her gaze shifted to her brother. Fujimiya Ran's expression was still frozen, his face a mask void of emotion.

"So everyone shut up now and listen." Aya's voice was steady but I could see her hands tremble. Her grip on the wheelchair's armrests was so tight her knuckles stood out white against her summer tan. Her eyes were still locked on her brothers'.

"I know it wasn't the police who came for me back when. You were the ones who saved me." She swallowed. "But I'm pretty sure that you had something to do with me being kidnapped in the first place."

I could not comprehend any of this information but a feeling of dread washed through my veins.

Fujimia Ran's remained silent while facing his sister's accusations. This seemed to be proof enough for Aya.

"Last time it was my legs. Now I'm about to lose my self-esteem. You were about to turn me into an emotional wreck. Takeo used me to get to you, and now you make him disappear and leave me behind without an explanation. You are bastards." Her eyes locked on mine now but she was adressing everyone in the room.

"I will not let anyone drag me into that damned business of yours ever again. I lost enough to it already. I will live my own life, and you can fight your wars happily ever after."

Her words did not sound bitter. Instead, her voice was full of resolve. But her eyes reflected the hurt she felt at the betrayal.

I wanted to yell out and tell her she had drawn the wrong conclusions, just like everyone else had. But I would have sounded pathetic. I kept quiet.

"Ran, help me to a cab. Don't call me. I'll call you."

She turned to face me one more time. "Go to hell, Takeo."

xxx

Aya's departure was followed by a thread of curses. Hidaka seemed to blame me for what had happened and used me as a punching bag to vent his anger.

Still paralyzed by what had just happened I was unable to defend myself. The best I could do was to curl up in a fetal position and bring my hands up to protect my face from his shitkickers.

Kudo watched his colleague manhandle me for a couple of seconds, then put a stop to it, stepping in between me and the madman. "Stop it, Ken." He looked down at me without so much as a flicker of pity in his eyes. "Sorry, man, but our dark-haired beauty doesn't deal well with betrayal. Long story."

"Where the fuck is Omi?" Fujimiya growled when he stepped back into the kitchen.

"I'm Here." The boy's voice sounded thin. He appeared in a door I had not noticed until now because it looked as if it lead into a broom closet. It was not a closet but a garage I realized as a blinked in an effort to free my eyes from the salty sting of blood which dripped down my face from a split brow. I wondered if he had witnessed the going-ons from behind that door.

"She wanted to use the ladie's room. When she didn't return I figured she'd need to take her time with the wheelchair and all... There was a second exit." He swallowed.

To my surprise it was Hidaka who got a grip on himself, hooked his hand under my arm and dragged me into a standing position. My kidney felt as if it had been replaced by steaming hot mashed potatoes. Hidaka's voice seemed curiously cool and even. All of a sudden he had regained his composure.

"Listen up, Kitahara. This interlude does not change anything. You will leave Tokyo for good, you will not contact Aya ever again... You will live."

"Otherwise I will get Kenken a set of hunting knives and your new address for Christmas." Kudo added.

"Thank you, dickhead. Didn't know you cared," Hidaka replied with a grin that would have made Jack Nicholson recoil in reverence.

"Yours, always," Kudo drawled.

I had nothing to say to their demands. All that remained for me in Tokyo were an endless amount of cases unsolved because of Kritiker's constant intervention, and a tiny apartment I would spend my time in alone because the girl I loved hated me, and I could think of nothing that would convince her of my sincerity.

It was Aya's brother who grabbed my shoulder and shoved me in the direction of the shop. My gut felt like one big bruise by now, and I wondered if I were still alive had Hidaka landed more than a handful of blows.

"You got twenty-four hours to leave. I will check on your progress. And make no mistake. My colleagues might get off on threatening you, but they are the ones who want to give you a chance. I was the one who voted you dead from the beginning. Next time you make a bad move I will ignore democracy and come after you, no matter what."

Until now Fujimiya had not been the talkative type. His dark, no-nonsense voice was the final straw. I had no spirit left to protest.


	20. Chapter 20

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 20

Kōbe, like Tokyo, is located on the main island Honshū. I had no idea if Kudo and his associates approved of my being there but twenty-four hours were not a lot of time regarding job-transfers. I had no choice.

I rejected the possibility to move back to my home town Sapporo. My father thought I had dishonored the family because I was expelled from the Minato Police Department in Tokyo. My mother was inconsolable, and I was in no state to explain matters.

I think Hirose had guessed the reason for my sudden departure had something to do with Kritiker. He took pity on me, and thanks to his efforts I was able to fill a vacancy in the Chūō-ku Police Department in Kōbe.

The Chūō-ku district reaches from JR-station in the Southwest over to Nada station in the East, and from the coast of Ōsaka in the South up to the foot of Futatabi-san. Although I was in charge of the tourist area and of Chinatown I was rarely busy at work.

I needed time to recover from the state of shock Aya's rejection had put me in. I wasn't a stranger to fatalism. Only twice in my life had I turned against the tides – I had pursued the matter of Kritiker against my superiors' orders, and I had been with Aya, choosing a path that sprouted more bumps than I was used to. The outcome of both choices taught me to stop being a fool and accept what life had in store for me. Which was not much.

With the initial paralysis gone I picked up a daily routine. I spent three to four hours at a dōjō every day in a futile attempt to drain the energy that derived from the grudge I felt due to the loss of my girlfriend an my self-respect and I directed my fury at Kritiker, including Kudo and his troop of hard-ass psychopaths.

Every day on lunch break I visited the Ikuta-shrine, one of the oldest Shintō shrines in Japan, founded by the empress Jingū-kōgō.

Neither the non-stop training nor the daily prayers were able to keep a lid on the aggression that was welling up inside of me, a state of being I was utterly unfamiliar with. Nothing had ever shaken me enough to trigger emotions as strong as those that overcame me now. Even the feelings involved in the relationship with Aya, seemed dull compared to what I felt now that I had lost her.

At the dojo I fought against the reckless and the careless. No one with half a brain would accept my challenges. Although my old sensei used to scold me because I was too hesitant and lacked spirit I am certain he would have expelled me from his dojo had he witnessed the ruthlesness and complete lack of restraint that now dominated my moves.

At work I managed to fit in just fine while keeping a polite distance from my new colleagues. I never gave a word of protest, was reliable and assiduous. I always found an excuse to reject invites to after-work drinks and dinners.

By the beginning of December, though, I found I had regained my composure enough to take part in social life again. My anger at the world faded to a dull resignation, and the visits to the dojo and the shrine were replaced by dates with women and karaoke sessions with colleagues.

Things were looking up.

On December 21st I received an anonymous call from a man who wanted to report a murder.

It was 5 o'clock in the morning when my partner Satō Minoru and I arrived at the crime scene, and a thin layer of snow covered the asphalt, still mostly undisturbed by car wheels at this early hour.

Inmidst the shiny skyscrapers and neat multi-storeys that dominated the business district Motomachi the bodies of two men in armani-suits and Gucci shoes lay twenty feet apart from each other, cut open like stuffed turkeys, the insides making a glossy appearance in all shades of red as they squeezed out through four parallel gashes in the victims' bellies. Their empty eyes stared into the sky in horror, their mouths frozen in silent screams.

I thought I had left Tokyo behind but the sight before me sent a shockwave through my body. I inhaled deeply and cold winter air filled my lungs. My chest stung, and my fingers and toes began to tingle, as if my blood circulation had been inhibited and was now starting up again.

I should have turned around and let my partner take care of things, as a symbolic act of closure. I didn't know who those men were but I suspected I knew who had killed them and I definitely knew who would be coming for them in a couple of minutes.

Satō kept his distance as I knelt down beside one of the bodies. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, and the surge of adrenalin that flooded my veins made me restless. I did not bother to ask one of the officers present for a torch. It was still dark, and this way no one would be able tosee what I was doing.

I slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and went directly for the guy's blood-smeared wallet. Systematically I searched it and found what I had been looking for – one of the 'special members' cards I had found on the body in Tokyo.

Problem was, there was no Blue Moon in Kōbe. A second card took care of my worries. This one was a deep red, the writing engraved in silver. Red Star, it read, and I slipped it into my pocket before replacing the wallet in the corpse's jacket, hiding the gloves in my fist and getting up on my feet again.

As soon as I was standing upright I heard voices from behind.

"We will take over from here, detectives."

I turned to see a tall, dark-haired woman who flashed a smile that would have turned my knees into jelly had I not known what the nature of her interference was about. A set of four identical looking men clad in dark suits stepped past me and began to examine the corpses. I conjured a smile myself and nodded.

"Have a good night."

Satō, who was twenty years my senior, was taken aback as he followed me to my Honda Civic.

"You know the procedure, then?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes. Let's go home."

The calling card was safely hidden away in the inside pocket of my coat.


	21. Chapter 21

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 21

I worked through Christmas and New Year's and took some time off in the first week of February. Until then I had had a lot of time to plan my next step.

There were at least two parties involved in the matter. One was Kritiker and its troop of assassins. The other one remained unknown to me. The clubs were either hunting ground to Kritiker, or it was a trap set up to lure victims into their death.

I had to unveil the identity of the second party in order to find out.

The dead businessmen did not belong to either side, I assumed, and had to be viewed as individuals whose deaths did harm in some way to either Kritiker or to Kritiker's unknown opponent.

There had been the warehouse in Minato-ku which had been destroyed completely. Several of the long-term employees had been killed by the same weapon that had ended the lives of the unknown business men in Tokyo as well as those we had found in Kobe two months ago. Whatever had opened their torsos was a very distinct weapon, and the killer must have had a lot of training in order to handle it as skilfully as he obviously did, because there had never been more than one precise blow to end the victims' lives.

My partner Iwase had not not been slain like the others, but shot in the chest. It may not have been the same killer, but in all cases the red-haired woman of Kritiker had shown up with her Rottweilers to take care of the mess.

The upper class salary men had been in possession of a special members card that had allowed them entrance to a place which was crucial to my investigations, and the incident at the warehouse, should it be connected to the case, led me to believe that the trading of illegal goods was involved.

This was all I had to go on, and I decided that in order to get hold of more information I would have to pay the Red Star a visit and find an easy victim that had access to the back room, as I was sure the club owed one, just like the Blue Moon did. I would track my target, bring it somewhere safe, and use a convincing technique to get everything out of him that I needed to know.

The thought scared me less than it would have a year ago. The police man turns into the criminal... Was that why Iwase had to die?

On my first day off work I took a cab to the Red Star, dressed in one of the outfits Mai had chosen for me back when I still had felt like a regular guy with a solid purpose in life. I wore a pair of dark blue jeans that was long enough to crease around dark brown Belstaff motorcycle boots. Despite of the suggested dress code a dark blue Armani silk shirt and a brown leather jacket that had cost a month's wage completed the outfit.

The club turned out to favour colors and decoration that made me feel like a time-traveller trapped in the nightmare version of a European mansion in the eighteen-hundreds. The oppressive, cloying atmosphere of an opium din and the wicked surroundings of a Paris brothel melted into an anachronistic chaos of leather-clad bodies writhing on a dance-floor beneath laser spots and artificial fog and faceless couples that stretched out languidly on red suede couches, drinking champagne and pleasing each other.

A gallery surrounded the main floor on which there stood more couches which were separated from one another by heavy curtains. Small chandeliers hung from the ceiling and candelabras were fastened to the walls.

There was a semi-circular bar made of cherry wood located at the far end of the dance floor. I ordered a Gin Tonic and scanned the walls for doors. A woman in a sleek black dresws noticed my interest in the surroundings and stepped up to me, a glass of champagne in her perfectly manicured hands.

"Your first time?"

I gave her a smile. Everything else would have seemed suspicious. "Certainly not my last time. What about you?"

The music changed beat as the DJ decided to make the girls show what they got. The lascivious voice of Prince or however he called himself in the new decade seeped out of the boxes and clung to everybody's skin like molten caramel.

My new acquaintance ignored my question. "You have the darkest eyes I've ever seen" she said, but she did not rub against me to get the action started as I expected and instead looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

"Thanks..." I mumbled, unsure as to what the proper response would be. "You have... dark eyes yourself."

To my astonishment I triggered a laugh from her. She winked at me and introduced herself as Mahra. We talked for a couple of minutes and I ordered her another glass of champagne. I was happy about the pleasant company.

"The clientele here splits into four groups", Mahra explained to me about half an hour into our conversation. "There is the successful business man who wants the world to know the size of his dick. There is the rich brat who blows daddy's fortune and gets off at the way chicks drool at the roll of cash in his pants. The shooting star who's just had a breakthrough in modeling or acting and is now trying to make an adventure of life. And last but not least there's the loner, looking for a challenge or a distraction, depending on how life is treating him at the moment."

I remained silent for a couple of seconds, taking all of this in. Involuntarily my brow furrowed. "You have things figured out, it seems."

I knew she expected me to ask which group she thought I belonged to but I did not do her the favour. I would have given in at some point but a movement in the corner of my eye made me turn my head and I froze in shock.

xxx

I knew the man who passed me by in a distance of less than 10 feet. It was crazy. I felt dizzy. Mumbling an excuse I abandoned Mahra and followed him. He left the bar behind and turned left into a corridor that was obscured by a labyrinth of curtains.

At the end of the corridor there was the door I'd been looking for. The man flashed a calling card and a guard placed his palm on a pad inserted into the wall. There was a beep and the door opend soundlessly.

Sill dazed I waited a couple of minutes before I stepped up to the guard myself and produced the Red Star card I had found in the last victim's pocket. Time seemed to slow down to a viscuous trickle. The man guarding the door stood at least 6'4" high. He looked at the card before his eyes locked on mine.

I did not hold my breath, and I did not straighten as his scrutinizing stare tried to invade my head. Fortuunately this seemed to be the right move, and the elephant opened the door to let me past.


	22. Chapter 22

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 22

Expecting a continuation of the Red Star's sleazy theme behind that door I was surprised to find myself standing in a plain corridor lit by modern double sconces with white glass shades. White doors lined the walls to either side, and in a distance of about 30 feet the hallway opened into a square room that was occupied by a couple of expensive looking leather couches, but none were occupied.

I swallowed as a lump grew in my throat and blood rose to my head. Before I made it all the way to the couches a thin man dressed in a dark grey suit stepped out from a door to my right and approached me with a warm smile. On a small, pointed nose he wore a pair of round, horn-rimmed spectacles that gave him the appearance of a racoon in awe.

"Welcome, sir. Follow me, please."

Names were a delicate matter around here, I suspected, because neither did Horn-rims introduce himself, nor did he ask for my name. He led me through a door further down the corridor and into a small, windowless office. The walls were plain white and bare of decoration. A camera hung from the ceiling. Its lens focused on the only furniture in the room, a stainless steel desk with two matching chairs

"How can I help you tonight, sir?" Horn-rims asked as he motioned for me to take a seat and sat down on the opposite side of the desk.

My qualities as a detective included the adherence of rules, trust in the law and loyalty to my colleagues and superiors. Until now I had thought of myself as spiritually sufficiently equipped to do my job well. During the past five minutes, though, it had dawned on me that I lacked the wisdom and foresight that made a good detective. Realizing the full extent of one's own stupidity is hurtful, but at least the embarassment fueled an anger at myself that kept the rising panic at bay.

The lump still clogged my throat, and I had to fake a cough before I found my voice. I had not thought my moves over before letting things run out of control like this. Whatever would happen now, it was my fault. I numbed myself to thoughts of my immediate future as I realized that my only option left was to follow through with what I had mindlessly started.

"I would like to talk about a prospective business engagement." There was a small pause, and I hastened to fill it. "My company looks for a new contractor regarding certain goods..."

I stumbled over my words and felt sweat trickle down my temples, but the raccoon nodded with a smile and stapled his fingers. "Why don't we save ourselves some precious time and call a spade a spade? What kind of goods would you like to acquire?" His voice was smooth, like silk, and I dared a guess.

"Heroin. Me and my partners deal in heroin, but our contractor had an unfortunate accident, so now we need to find a substitute."

This was precisely the wrong thing to say, I immediately realized when Horn-rims stiffened.

"I see," he answered, his voice not in accord with his posture. "I am desolate, but I have to inform you that my employer does not specialize in such things. I sincerely hope you will forgive me for having to turn you down."

I felt an ice-cold chill run down my spine. All I managed was a weak nod, and as Horn-rims lead me out of the office there were already two men in black suits waiting for us. I saw the bulges beneath their jackets and realized that this was the farewell-committee.

"Before we part," the bespectacled man said, "would you kindly care to tell me who recommended our firm to you?"

I could not remember any of the Tokyo victims' names, but I was screwed no matter what, so I merely shook my head.

The man nodded as if he had expected this, turned his back on me and disappeared behind another door.

Silently the two guards positioned themselves on either side of me and led me to the far end of the hallway, past the couches and toward a thick, unmarked steel door. Behind that door they would either try to get information out of me or they would discard me quickly and discreetly. I hoped for the latter.

Just as the guard to my right pushed down the door handle a voice that came from behind us stopped him in mid-move.

"Let him go, Ogura, he's with me."

I was released from the grip my captors had on me, and I felt nauseous as I turned to look at the face I had already glimpsed in the club.

"Iwase" I gasped.


	23. Chapter 23

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 23

An hour after my reunion with Iwase I was still dazed and confused. He had led me back to the club and we now sat in a booth in a far corner that was obscured by thick suede curtains. Iwase looked relaxed and in control of the situation – just like he always used to. He was nursing a glass of Scotch and sucking on his tenth cigarette.

I, on the other hand, was shaken by our encounter and did not try to hide it. "I do not understand," I repeated for the third time since we had started talking. "Who is behind all this?" My mouth felt dry and I took a sip of water. "What kind of deals happen in those offices?"

"I am not allowed to tell you, Kitahara. But my employees are on to Kritiker. As soon as we bust their cover there will be no more yakuza-style authority that gets in law's way." Iwase inhaled a lungful of smoke and let it go through his nostrils. The cigarette was burnt down all the way to the filter. His nicotin-stained fingers discarded the stub in the already overflowing ashtray on the table.

"But what about "we are merely pawns on the chess board" and "not in our power to interfere"? And what about your wife? She thinks you are _dead_!"

My former mentor shook his head sadly and got a new cigarette from the now almost empty pack in his shirt pocket. "I know. But I'm not as cruel as you think. She had time to mourn and to move on. I left her enough money to live in peace and comfort."

He sighed when he noticed my doubtful gaze. "I had no choice, Takeo. I'd been uncovered. They would have killed me for real and they would have killed my family, too. I had to disappear to save them and to save the mission. Kritiker are a virus in Japan's bloodstream. They are slowly but steadily killing everyone who stands in their way, putting their own men everywhere and corrupting every office and institution from within. I had no choice but to fake my death in order to make everything I've worked for worthwhile."

"How did you do it?" I felt dizzy. "I saw you. You were shot in the chest."

"I wasn't the only one working under cover. We have a lot of men within Kritiker's ranks. They knew when and where I would be found. Kritiker had your mobile tapped, and when I called you my colleagues made sure they were on the 'disposal team' that was in charge of discarding my body."

I still did not understand half of what was going on. Who was Iwase's employer? What business was Kritiker involved in with the cover company? How much of this secret operation was known to public authorities? How much of it was authorized?

"If you have that many agents within Kritiker why have they not unmasked that organization already?"

For the first time since I have met him Iwase turned impatient. "You don't _understand_, Takeo. Kritiker is a small conglomerate of people who want to obtain power and influence, and they kill everyone who stands in their way. They are smart, and they employ numerous semi-autonomous execution groups which take care of business. Our agents have made it into the clean-up troops and even into administration, but that doesn't give them much power. They push around code names they can't allocate, and there are just too many parts of the puzzle missing. Even the organizations' leaders make sure they don't meet each other face to face, so no one can ever be sure how big Kritiker really are..."

He paused and looked at me for a while. He had finished his cigarette but this time did not light a new one and instead leaned forward until his face was close to mine.

"But you, Takeo. You could make all the difference."

I was taken aback. I blinked, half due to surprise, half due to the thick clouds of cigarette smoke that stung my eyes. "How?" I asked.

"Kritiker knows you are a nosy but harmless lightweight, a young officer who still believes in a clearly arranged justice system. You are not on their red list, but I know you're smart, in spite of that immense bullshit you tried to pull tonight. You found this club. You found me. I'm sure you know more about Kritiker than they are aware of."

He fell silent, clearly waiting for an affirmative answer.

"Maybe," I stated carefully. "I was..." I cleared my throat and felt my ears grow hot. "I had to leave Tokyo due to a misunderstanding with a couple of people who might belong to an execution group."

I could not believe what was coming out of my mouth. With every passing minute I felt more like a side-character in a spy-movie.

Iwase used to be my colleague, and he had always treated me as an equal. His explanations neatly filled some of the gaps of what I had come up with myself, and as the picture cleared I finally knew what I had to do, and a profound sense of purpose flooded my stomach, making it tingle.

"Do you think you could establish contact once more?" Iwase asked.

His question dimmed my excitement somewhat. "That will not be easy..."

"Well, all you have to do is pay them a visit and tell them a story that will lure them into our trap." He lit a new cigarette.

"What kind of story?" _What kind of trap?_

"We will make something up... tell me everything you have found out about them so far. Maybe we will be able to work with that."

I tried to come up with details. I knew their names, which got Iwase so excited he almost snapped his cigarette in half. I tried not to mention Aya, but with the information Iwase now had she would not stay a secret for long. Thank God she was not involved in Kritiker business. Also, I did not mention the reason why I had to leave Tokyo. I felt embarrassed, and vanity got in the way of honesty.

I thought of Aya. If I helped uncover her brother's secret identity, would that be betrayal? But it was the right thing to do, and she would maybe never know it was me. Even if, would it make a difference? She already thought of me as a two-faced bastard. I was a cop, and I was doing my duty.

"What's wrong?"

I looked up. Iwase frowned and I realized I was massaging my pecs. I lowered my hand onto the table and shook my head, ignoring the tightness in my chest. "Nothing. I'm fine."

xxx


	24. Chapter 24

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 24

One week had passed when Iwase called me. We met in a tiny, crowded restaurant in Chinatown. Iwase looked happy to see me. He raised his chopsticks and waved me over to a high stack of wooden boxes which he used as a table. The whole restaurant looked like this, no chairs, makeshift tables of concrete slabs and empty crates, the scent of fried eggs and chicken thick in the air. In front of Iwase stood a plate of steaming rice and vegetables and a bottle of iced tea. I walked over and tried to look relaxed, but I felt my stomach roll as I waited for him to finish chewing.

"I have a plan, Takeo," he said, swallowed and replaced the fork in his hand with a lighter and a cigarette. He lit up and inhaled.

"Fujimiya Ran's sister is headed for Hawaii, paying friends a visit. According to my informants she will stay there for another two weeks. One of our agents is on his way over there to snatch her mobile phone and hide a jammer in her wheelchair. It will interfere every phone signal in close proximity and also make it hard for her to send emails. That way we can inhibit contact between her and her brother for at least two days, I think."

"Why?"

"Because you will meet up with Fujimiya Ran and tell him we have abducted her. He will try to contact his sister, but our agent will answer her phone. Should his sister try to call him she won't get a signal, no matter which phone she uses. We will activate the jammer as soon as you've delivered the message. Fujimiya will believe we do have her. If he wants her back, he will have to meet up with us at the following address."

Iwase slipped me a piece of paper. The address specified the location of a warehouse in the large industrial region that occupied the area between Tokyo and Yokohama.

"Once he's there we will tell him we want to trade the sister for a confession. As soon as we got that we will hand him over to the police and they can put him on trial. We will make an example of him which will make Kritiker nervous and the public aware."

The plan sounded good to me, except for the fact that Aya would come home from her vacation to find her brother in jail. But there was no better option. I would not let a murderer run free just because I had a bad conscience.

xxx

It took me twenty-four hours to prepare my visit to Tokyo. I called in sick at work and rented a black Honda CR-V. I took my gun with me. The purpose I could not guess, but before I left Iwase handed me a hunting knive which looked old but well cared for. The sheath was made of light brown leather. It had a loop attached with which I was able to fasten it to my belt and hide it underneath my winter coat. Iwase's expression reminded me of a father's who was both proud and regretful to send his son out to save the day.

I had never fought with any other weapon than a katana, and I knew how to shoot a gun merely from practice lessons at police school. I would enter the lion's den without much of a defense strategy, I realized, but it was too late to get scared, now. I had made bad decisions and gone through with them since the day I had first encountered Kritiker, and although it had changed my life to the worse temporarily it had not killed me. So far. Was I being naive? My nervosity grew the closer I got to Tokyo.

Would Iwase despise me if I chickened out now? I did not think so. Despite his rough appearance he had a soft heart. He would always be on my side. Which was why I did not want to disappoint him. And I had to prove to myself that I was capable of handling the reality that was swallowing my ideals and believes.

I arrived in Harajuku at eleven o'clock in the evening and parked my car near the station.

The streets were deserted at this time, all the shops and cafés closed. People had moved on to the night-active districts such as Shibuya with its karaoke bars and in-clubs or Kabuki-Cho in Shinjuku, one of Tokyo's infamous red-light districts.

Beneath my coat I wore a black sweater and a pair of blue jeans as well as my Belstaff boots. It was not the chill of winter that crept beneath my clothes and made me shiver, though.

I approached the flower shop. It was closed. The shutters were down, and no lights were on anywhere in the windows that faced the street.

Slowly I forced my feet to take one step after another towards the tiny alleyway next to the building and entered its darkness. I immediately spotted the yellow light that seeped onto the brick wall from a small window a couple of feet above me. I was not able to look inside, but that did not matter.

What had Kudo said? The way I I went about things reminded him of Beverly Hills Cop... I had seen those movies years ago, and I thought back. What would Eddie Murphy do now? He would be blunt, straight forward, and nosy as hell.

The alleyway was dark but clean, and there was hardly any garbage lying around, but I found a left-over stack of bricks that had been used to close up the back-end of the alley.

An unfamiliar but not unpleasant feeling washed through me as I returned to the window with two bricks in my hand. The first hit the window right in the center and smashed the glass. I heard movement from inside, but no one showed. Weighing the remaining projectile in my hiand I yelled up to the yellow hole in the wall. "Fujimiya! Are you in there? I need to talk to you!" I did not consider the neighbors' reactions, partly because I did not care, and partly because this was a shopping street, and hardly anyone lived here.

"Front," someone hissed, and I made my way back to the glass doors that led into the flower shop. No one turned the lights on but I heard the klick of a key in the lock. Although I kept a safe distance from the entrance someone who had crept up behind me pushed me forward as soon as the shutter went up, and two sets of hands dragged me through the now open door so forcefully I lost my ground and tumbled to the floor. Someone twisted my hands behind my back and bound them with a thin rope that cut painfully into my skin. A foot landed on my back to keep me down.

"You stupid, fucking bastard..." I recognized the breathless, unbelieving voice as Kudo Yohji's.

"I need... to talk to...you... Fuyimiya..." I wheezed.

"Why?" His voice was hard and cold. I realized that he had made a decision. He really wanted to see me dead.

"Hear me out," I hastened to speak, despite the weight on my back that forced the air out of my lungs. "It's about Aya. She's in danger..."

As soon as I had finished the tip of a knife was pressed to the lid of my eye. "I will blind you. I will roast your eyeballs on a stick, and then I will feed them to you."

I shivered. Fujimiya Aya might have had the appearance of an elegant, well-educated gentleman, but his eyes and voice were those of a madman who nurtured an ice-cold fire that burned his insides.

"If you kill me now, you will never get her back, and if you torture me I will not be able to tell you more than I am going to tell you now."

My bladder was about to give in to fear when the redhead sliced my eyelid with trembling fingers, but a pair of strong arms drew him back before he could do any real harm.

"Tell us, then", someone hissed through clenched teeth. It was Hidaka. "If anything's happened to her I will mess you up good. You'll look so fucked not even the devil will use you as a door mat."

My right eye clinched shut because blood streamed down my lid, I tried to focus on Hidaka and wished I had never come here. The dark-haired, muscle-packed man was sliding on a pair of impossibly large gloves made of a thick material that looked not quite like leather. It reminded me of the bullet-proof wests we wore in police school during fight training.

"I'm here to..." I stopped. Hidaka had clenched his hands into fists, and four steel claws had shot forth from his gloves. I knew now who had killed all those people during the last couple of months. These men were Kritiker's kill force. I forced my eyes to move back to Fujimiya and started talking.


	25. Chapter 25

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 25

No matter how hard I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel, my hands were shaking uncontrollably, and I fear the only reason I did not black out was Kudo's looming presence on the passenger seat. His cold stare made me hold on to what remained of my dignity.

We drove through Tokyo in silence, and as soon as we left the city's megalopolis the sky turned pitch black. There were no neon lights, no patchinko parlors and no bright plasma screens on skyscraper facades that illuminated the air which remained trapped beneath Tokyo's dome of smog.

The headlights of the car behind us seemed to stare angrily out at me from the rear view mirror. Fujimiya and the rest of his team were following us in a Land Cruiser whose height brought them up to eye level with the Honda, and I was glad it was dark and I was spared the sight of Fujimiya's eyes which had turned dark with hatred when he had dialed his sister's phone number and one of Iwase's agents had answered.

Me accompanying the killer troop was not part of the plan, but the barrel of a gun against my temple was a most convincing argument that justified a change of mind. The address my colleague had given me led us into the outskirts of the industrial plain that consisted mostly of construction sites and newly finished warehouses not yet in use.

I pulled up in front of the long side of a flat-roof concrete bulding. I could make out two large roller shutters; both were closed. As soon as I turned off the engine eight men clad in black stepped out of the shadows and approached the cars with drawn guns.

Before I had the chance to grasp the full extend of the danger I was in Kudo opened the door and left the car with hands raised high over his head. I did the same, and hands in thick leather gloves grasped me hard, shoved me against the car and started to search my body for concealed weapons.

The whole procedure was degrading, and I felt shaken and debased when finally the men led me and my companions around the building and through a small steel door.

Inside, caged neon lights provided enough illumination to project a sense of vastness but were too weak to chase away the shadows that engulfed the surroundings. To the left, rows of ceiling-high, worryingly instable looking metal shelves reached from one end of the hall to the other. They carried everything from massive looking metal constructs to trays of screws and flexible hoses.

To the right I saw huge islands of boxes, packed and ready for shipment. In one of the narrow corridors that separated the stacks there was movement in the darkness. More agents, I thought.

I was shoved forward, towards a small group of people, and I was relieved to find Iwase among them. The man who had escorted me with a gun shoved against the back of my neck lowered his weapon when Iwase ordered him to do so. I stepped up to my former colleague and he gave me an approving smile and a clap on the shoulder.

"Well done, Kitahara. You have no idea what tonight's success means to us."

I would have smiled, but I did not feel like it, because I was still surrouned by armed men who radiated more danger than Fujimiya ever had. Iwase turned his attention to the four captives now who had been forced to kneel on the floor. Behind each of them stood one guard with a gun pressed to the back of their necks.

It was not Iwase who spoke up but the well-dressed man who stood next to him. He wore a steel grey suit and looked out at Fujimiya and the others from behind a pair of rimless glasses. His black hair was slicked back, his skin clean shaven. I did not recognize him from anywhere.

"I am assuming that you gentlemen are the infamous 'Weiss', Kritiker's most efficient pack of terriers", he said. It was not a question, and no one answered.

"Listen, Weiss. My offer to you is a position within my troops in exchange for information on Kritiker," he continued. "A very generous offer, I think, because any information I need I will be able to get from you one way or another, and you know it."

His words pierced my head like bolts of ice. Was the man talking about torture? I looked at Iwase who had put on a blank expression and ignored me. For the first time I had to swallow a lump of doubt that crept up from my stomach and clogged my throat. Who exactly was I working for?

"I want my sister", Fujimiya growled. "You will get the information you want as soon as I have her. Otherwise I will activate a hidden transmitter and Kritiker will be here within ten minutes."

"That is more time than I need. I have expected contingencies, and my men have prepared the area accordingly. But if talking comes easier to you in presence of Miss Fujimiya I am glad to be of assistance."

He nodded to a red-haired gaijin who stood next to him. The man disappeared behind a crate of boxes, and after half a minute reappeared with a limp bundle in his arms. He half carried, half dragged it up to his boss, and when he stepped out of the shadow my blood froze.

Aya was gagged, her clothes torn and dirty. She was awake but put up no fight. The guard had one arm draped around her chest, the other one around her waist. Her legs draggled lifelessly on the ground.

"Aya!" Fujimiya yelled and jumped to his feet, but his guard was quicker. I realized that he had no gun but a tazer pressed against Fujimiya's neck, and he used it. Aya's brother tumbled to the floor in a heap, the fingers of his outstreched hand twitching uncontrollably.

Aya's gaze did not linger on her brother. Instead, she twisted her torso in the gaijin's arms enough to be able to get a good look at me. She did not even seem angry. Her broken eyes held an accusation that was directed at me. 'See what you did? This is your doing.'

Her face showed cuts and bruises, as did the skin that was left bare by her soiled t-shirt. Now that she was close to me a sharp smell entered my nose, and I saw a dark stain on her pants. They had not even let her use the bathroom.


	26. Chapter 26

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 26

The chain of events that followed after Aya's tortured eyes found mine still seem unreal to me. I do remember what was done and said, and I remember the pain, but I have no recollections of my thoughts or of the fear and anger I surely must have felt. There were no emotions, and I still wonder if that was how Weiss went through their killing sprees.

Whatever shut down my complex trains of thought helped me to stay alive, along with the upper arm strength I had acquired during my kendo training and the clout and speed that the Shihan had drilled into me along with every single kata.

The first man I took down did not see the attack coming. My foot hit his throat and crushed his windpipe. He dropped his gun and I swiped it up and aimed it at the man who held Aya, but there was no way I could have scored a hit without endangering her. The first incredulous scream that got loud came from Iwase. I turned around and pulled the trigger. The noise was deafening and multiplied as it echoed between the metal shelves. The bullet hit Iwase square in the chest.

He sank to his knees, and I stayed in place and fired the weapon once more, this time hitting the man who stood behind Iwase. He went down with a hole in his head.

Hidaka had gotten himself a gun as well, and he was standing above Fujimiya and shielding him from assaults while Aya's brother, still shaken from the tazer attack, came to. Kudo was hunting for pray in the shadows between the stacks of boxes.

The young one, Omi, who had seemed out of place in midst of these armed men from the beginning had snatched his guard's gun and was taking down one man after another with the calm accuracy of an experienced sniper. He was fast, and he was thorough.

No more than five or six seconds had passed since I had killed and disarmed the first sentinel. The leader, the elegant business man, had vanished.

I focused on the redhead gaijin who was still holding Aya like a shield in front of him and aiming bullets at Hidaka who pulled Fujimiya into safety behind a set of boxes. I raised my gun and strode towards him. As soon as he noticed me he swivelled around and aimed at me.

As I advanced a projectile bit into the back of my shoulder. There was no time to get back at the attacker, because Aya and her captor were very close now. Now it was the gaijin's turn to pull the trigger, and a bullet pierced my stomach. I kept on walking, feeling almost tranquil now, and just before I was in reach of Aya the redhead dropped her and made a run for it. I fired my gun and hit him square in the back. He stumbled and disappeared in the shadows.

When my knees gave way and I sank to the ground my vision blurred and I heard the ebbing noise of fighting around me. There could not be many men left. Next to me I heard a rattling cough. It was Iwase. Bloody froth escaped from his parted lips with every laboured breath he took. The bullet had pierced his lung. The front of his white shirt was soaked with his own blood.

"Why?" he asked and looked at me through clouded eyes.

"She's my girl," I answered.

He chuckled. "Fuck. You should've told me."

I did not linger to watch Iwase die but rolled onto my right side so I would be able to watch Aya. My vision faded, no matter how often I blinked, and I prayed she was okay. Then the agony hit. My guts were on fire, a white hot pain that stole my breath, and fear joined in as I realized that I would not get out of here anymore.

The shooting had stopped, and I saw a shadow approach Aya and pick her up. I hoped it was one of Weiss. Flopping onto my back I pressed my fist to the small hole in my stomach to keep in whatever wanted out. Above me, a neon light flickered on and off. And then, nothing.


	27. Chapter 27

Tokyo Blues

Chapter 27

I am awake. I am lying in a hospital bed in white, crisp sheets. An IV needle protrudes from the back of my hand. To my left, a monitor beeps and visualizes the frequency of my heartbeat. Aya is sitting in a wheelchair next to my bed and explains that we will join her brother and his teammates in a Kritiker safehouse as soon as I am well enough to leave the clinic.

I look at her and want to ask her whether she is alright and how we got here, but the oxygen mask that covers my mouth and my nose keeps the words inside.

Aya looks beautiful, despite her swollen cheek and a cut above her brow, but her eyes are still sad, and I know that it is my fault.

She remains silent for a while and seems lost in her own thoughts, and her fingers keep picking a handkerchief to pieces.

"Your family thinks you're dead," she finally says. We're on Eszet's black list, and we need to go into hiding. New identities and all, you know."

'Who is Eszet?' I mouth, but Aya doesn't see. Her eyes are still focused on her hands.

"A lot of Eszet agents got killed in the warehouse. Kritiker burned everything down." She clears her throat and falls silent again. She has nothing left to say.

My shoulder hurts as I lift a hand to my face. My arm feels as if lead is running through my veins, and the effort is exhausting. When I manage to drag the oxygen mask down to my chin I let my arm fall back down on the mattress. It takes an eternity until I catch my breath.

Aya is looking at me now. "I'm sorry," I tell her, and my voice sounds like sandpaper on wood.

"Would you like some water?" Aya asks, and I nod. She discards the torn handkerchief in a paper basket, maneuvers her wheelchair over to a table at the opposite wall and pours a glass of water from a small plastic bottle. She returns and lifts my head with one hand then brings the glass to my lips and tilts it slightly.

Swallowing hurts, but the taste of fresh water revives me a little, and I keep drinking until I can't breathe anymore. Aya cradles the glass in her lap and with her forefinger absent-mindedly catches a drop of water that trickles down its side.

"I'm sorry," I repeat.

"Stop saying that," Aya suddenly snaps, then shakes her head. "Takeo, you're a stupid, gullible idiot, and hell yeah, you should feel sorry."

I cringe and wince because the dull pain in my stomach flares up and leaves me gasping for air.

Aya reaches out to touch my arm. I calm down. "I know why you did it, though. I might have done the same. But it was dumb of you to get involved in the first place."

I remembered the advice Iwase had given me on the day I first encountered Kritiker. It was the same advice Kudo Yoji had given me on our first meeting in Shibuya, the same I had gotten from Hirose and Handa. They all had told me to stop digging, and to leave the matter alone.

"I really am an idiot," I said.

Aya nodded. "But you acted out of genuine motives. You didn't mean any harm."

I was surprised to hear her say that. "Does that mean you could forgive me?" I croaked. My voice was about to disappear, and Aya let me finish the glass of water.

"Maybe. It was me who insisted you come to the safehouse with us. And my brother will protect your sorry ass, because he knows that he might not be able to look after me for much longer, and he will make sure that I am not going to be alone when that happens. That's just how he is."

Aya tried a smile, but instead gave a small sob. She managed to hold back the tears her eyes wanted to shed. I felt sorry for her. The men in her life put her in danger constantly and were likely to leave her without a warning. Her brother's profession forebode an early death. In spite of this dire future Aya did not seem to dismiss the thought of spending it with me. The realization hit me like a freight train.

"If you still want me I will promise not to do anything stupid anymore. I promise I will stay alive for you."

"You better," she said. The tears were rolling down her cheeks now, but she also managed that smile she had been working on. "You can't be a police officer anymore with Eszet on your back, but I heard they are short on flower shops in Fukuoka. The death rate in that business usually isn't very high, I heard, and my brother has excellent connections to flower pot suppliers."

Ende


End file.
